How Many Licks to the Center of a Tootsie Pop
by SavL7
Summary: "No one knows. It's the only unsolvable riddle in the world. Not even I can figure it out." A Riddler Story. No Romance. Featuring: The Batman and all our favorite rogues Nolanverse
1. Chapter 1

_Author Note: I guess if everyone has noticed I'm attempting to write batman fanfics. I started two others, but they're both missing something. Anyways this is a sequel to the Dark Knight. I don't actually know how Nolan's third movie will be like, but this is how I imagine it. There will be a romance brought in by a random oc in the future. I'm not sure what her pairing will be. Joker, Scarecrow, and Batman will all make appearances.  
_

* * *

A short black haired boy leaned causally against the dirt layer of the brick wall. His papa's old black bowler hat was kept low over his face keeping his eyes hidden from the walking public. His eyes quickly looked across the many Gothanites strolling along like another day. Most seemed rather upset about the lost of Gotham great white knight a couple weeks ago, but there was a certain sense of happiness among them. It felt similar to anticipation to some amazing party at the end of the week. Hope…would be another word. The Joker had been captured and the top mob bosses of the underworld were all dead. While normally those would be things to celebrate, the boy leaning against the wall only fisted his hands in his dark black trousers. These ignorant people had no idea what the criminal underworld was like at the moment.

The Joker's anarchy had started a civil war between all the criminals gangs. The small timers were trying to strengthen up and take control, but it was only leading to bloodshed. The Batman, now seen as a criminal to these lazy eye predictable citizens, still hunted them like rats. There was no one in the criminal world to turn to, so everyone was left to fend for themselves. He felt like a rat as his green eyes peered out at these rich pigs. He attempted to find the one with the easiest cheese to fetch. Possibly a wallet bulging out of some man's back pocket or a woman's diamond bracelet barely clinging to her wrist would suffice for today.

A repetitive thud scraping noise against the sidewalk caught his attention. He causally glanced at the metal cane causing the noise. His eyes followed it upwards to a large encompassing hand and along to the tallish man. Normally he would have thought the man out of place with his dark jeans and white tee shirt, but his dark green pin stripe jacket looked expensive. Calvin Klein…maybe. His bright crazy red hair only seemed to clash the outfit then put it together. He wasn't even going to mention the big black-rimmed glasses. Nerd. However, the large stuffed pocket inside the jacket drew all of his focus away from the man's strange sense in fashion to his true goal of the day. His left leg was obviously crippled, and he could easily pluck the large wallet from inside his coat and make off with it. Even if he happened to notice he wouldn't be able to run after him.

A slow smile graced his lips realizing his luck. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly put in his headphones that weren't attached to anything. He walked causally in the man's direction acting oblivious to the people around him. He saw a cab driving down the rode, and quickened his pace in order to catch it. Both his hands came out of his pocket as if trying to wave the cab down. While one shot to the air the other bumped into the cripple's body plucking the bulge out and pulling it up into his sleeve.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly and ran to the cab that had stopped for him. He pulled the door opened and ordered the cabbie to drive straight. Once the car kept going the proud sensation of a job well done engulfed him like always. He smirked pulling the bulk out of her sleeve. Did he feel bad for stealing from a cripple? Maybe a little, but him getting a good dinner for once was worth it.

The smirk faltered on his face as a long stuffed white envelope revealed itself from her black sleeves. He had seen many envelopes that held money, but this just seemed like a random thing to pickpocket. He slowly lifted the unattached fold and his smile disappeared.

* * *

He slammed the door shut to a dumpy house some bank now owned, and currently housed a lot of Maroni's x employees. He expected to hear a clicking of a gun from one of his co workers, but nothing sounded. They must all be out, he thought as he angrily threw the worthless envelope of newspaper clippings and photos on the ground. No money!

He stiffed the cabbie meaning he had to make a run for it with the cabbies angry screams and overweight mass sounding from behind him. Once he escaped he attempted a few other pickpockets only to be caught mid grab. He let out a dreadful sigh. It had been a bad day and a lot of running so he decided to come with his head down low back home. Working for Maroni had been so much easier, even if he did get paid crap. He walked towards the stairs that were traced with mold and rotting. He could even hear the creaks on the wooden floor boards beneath him threatening to break.

But then the sound of scrapping hit his left ear. He quickly pulled out his black revolver from his pocket and pointed it into the living room directly at the noise. His green eyes widened in surprise and disgust.

There sitting on the lumpy mix matched color couch was the cripple he had robbed this morning. The cripple's eyes were cool and calculating as they stared at him from under his large frame glasses. The cripple's free hand laid causally on top of his crossed legs while his other hand held onto the black cane. His eyes falling to the big burly man stabbed in the windpipe with the black sharp end.

The dead man hadn't been a friend, but he had been familiar. Seeing his body on the ground like that made the boy slightly sick.

"How did you find me?" the boy hissed in his deeper voice focusing his aim right on the center of his forehead.

"For someone seemingly unintelligent you asked a fascinating question. It isn't 'Why are you here?' or 'What did you do to my friend?' or something else panicked and pointless. It is actually a question to an unknown answer that would baffle the average minds," he answered. He leaned forward slightly digging the cane deeper into the dead man's throat as he put his chin on top of it.

"And instead of answering you wasted my time with a ramble of shit. I have good aim," he added.

"Solve the riddle and maybe I will take your ignorant threat into consideration," he answered raising a long orange eyebrow tauntingly.

Who was this crippled man? Did he not fear death? "What riddle?" the boy asked not exactly sure how to handle the situation. He noticed the edge of his barrel fidgeting between his shaky hands. He took a deep cleansing breath and focused the aim once again. Most of Maroni's jobs for the boy were breaking and entering. He hardly ever went on intimidation jobs and hardly ever actually killed. He might be okay with stealing from a cripple man but killing him was an entirely different thing.

"Aw disappointing, and here I thought you would stay away from stupid questions," he responded as he leaned back on the chair. The cripples one hand still held the cane.

He felt his lips tighten into an annoyed straight line. He hated it when people disregarded him so easily. He loved to prove those judgmental looks wrong. Riddle...he hadn't mentioned a riddle. The cripple hadn't even stated a question. Only the boy had asked the questions so far... Was that what he was talking about? The riddle of how he found his house…

His thoughts went over the morning. He must have felt the boy take the worthless envelope. The cripple didn't follow him obviously because he had beaten him here. Did the cripple know him personally? His lips pressed tighter together as he thought it over. No, he had never met the man, and Maroni definitely had never done business with him. It must have been something about his own appearance that tipped off his location. His eyes widened with realization. "Since you knew I was a pickpocket, it was easy to figure out I work for one of the x gangs. Pick pocketing has been skyrocketing since the gang civil war started. And there are only three major gangs currently. Joker's old crew that has no reasoning behind what they do because they are all insane. Maroni's and the Chechen. Maroni's crew tend to still wear suits that are getting old and out tailored while the Chechen's will not allow anyone in unless they are part of their ethnicity. Maroni gang really only holds up in three houses, so from there you could take a guess. I never would have expected a random richy rich to know all that though," he answered feeling smugly that he figured it out.

"You missed something though. Your pant leg has a few shards of watery wood," he stated knowingly. The boy glanced at his leg for a quick moment, but didn't see any wood. He did notice the dried water stain that he thought was only visible if you looked for it.

"That information told me you were located closer to water which had help aged your house. That decreased your three houses to one," the cripple informed him with a smug look of his own.

His mouth slowly went a gape. Who was this red head? "You stole something precious from me," he continued. The cripple's eyes narrowed on him. They almost seemed more threatening then an actual weapon.

He tried to ignore the on edge feeling traveling along his spine. He was the one in control. "I have the gun remember. So leave and you won't get hurt," he growled.

The red head smirked at the threat then pushed himself off the couch with his cane. He stood standing staring straight into the gun. "Everyone is afraid of death, are they not? What does it mean then if a person isn't afraid?" he asked simply.

"There insane," he mumbled quietly to himself as he stared at the messy red head. His hair sticking out all over the place only stressed the point of insanity.

He frowned for a moment before the slow calculating smile crossed his face again. "I gave you more credit then you deserved, but I'll help you out," he said friendly as he lifted his cane out of the dead man's throat. As his cane freed the dead man he heard a loud whistling sound like a string cutting through air. He flinched as a now visible string came into view and shot up into the air. He followed the path and realized the string was coming right towards him. Before he could move or calculate what was going on something large and heavy slammed a top his shoulders smashing him onto the ground and causing the weak wood to crack. His gun slipped out of his hand and slide across the floor. An overwhelming pain and light-headedness attacked his senses as he attempted to move his limbs. What had happened? His vision was dimming as he watched the man with dark green shoes limp over to him. He watched as a hand reached out for his gun and slowly picked it back up.

"The answer you ask? Well it's simple. The person isn't in a life or death position," the cripple told his clouded thoughts, "The wonders of pulleys."

He wanted to respond something snarky back, but whatever had crushed into his back seemed to be holding his voice. He watched as the green jacket man bent back down and reached for him. He closed his eyes expecting the worst, but was surprise when a weight left his head. He risked opening an eye to see the red head studying the hat under his glasses. "I like this. I think I'll keep it as your apology gift," he said with an honest smile as he placed the bowler hat on his head. "It's missing something though…"

"Who…who," he tried to choke out.

The red head's dark eyes glanced down at the boy. "Who am I?" he finished the statement for him. The cripple then pointed the gun at the boy's head. "If you can answer that you can keep your pathetic life," the red head stated causally.

He felt fear through his sluggish mind, but he couldn't bring himself to fight it. Was he dying? The lack of air reaching his lungs seemed to answer that question. So many questions….why sooo many questions. He hated them. He dropped out of school for a reason. Questions…ugh!

But then the thought clicked to him. Maybe the insane man was like the Joker and had a weird name. "Que…ques…question," he asked in a hopeless staggered tone.

"Wrong."

The gunfire was the last thing the boy heard as the bullet went straight through the top of his head through his brain and out his jaw.

* * *

Tell me what you think about the Riddler and if I have him in character. You will learn a lot more about him in future chapters though.


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: sorry about the long update. i'm back in school. first off though i would like to stress this story is NOT a romance. While some romance might be thrown in for fun, the main objective of this story is not a love one. This is just me writing what I think the sequel to The Dark Knight should be like. At first i had thought to put in a love story, but i decided I don't really like the idea. Again not a love story. Also some of the riddles in here are not mine. I must give credit to the video game Arkham's Asylum and the interview with the Riddler. I also do not own Batman. Anyways hope you enjoy!_

* * *

His dark green almost black eyes stared down at the pool of blood that seeped out of the child's head. He noticed the speck of sponge like pieces sprinkled across the red. His long lips turned into a smirk before he placed his pistol into the waistband of his jeans.

"I wouldn't have thought a brain existed in such a small container," he said causally to the dead boy weighted under an open suitcase full of bricks. He plucked his purple handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his green pin stripe jacket. He slowly wiped his already clean hands with the flimsy clothe before returning it to its place. The small green question mark was barely visible on the corner of it.

He winced as the sharp pain returned to his left leg. It felt like a thousand cats had decided to cling their claws into him and drag. He tried to control his face from contorting his true torture, but his smirk had fallen to a bitter frown. The man's death had been a more creative riddle then his first few kills, but it still barely managed to subdue the torment.

"Distractions," he remembered the young woman suggesting sweetly. He had looked at her with such distaste. It felt like her low IQ was lowering his with every moment she spoke.

"You can not actually be serious at the moment. If you are, I must remind you that while your young fitting form is healthy and agile…I can't walk," his voice snapped.

He thought it was interesting how the blonde's face seemed to cringe as if the words were actual physical attacks. "I know, but if something else had your mind the pain wouldn't seem as bad. It similar to when someone pinches you…for that brief second your focus on the pinch and not the pain," she said sweetly. Her bright big blue eyes seemed very sincere, but too naïve and ignorant. It looked like stupidity and it only bothered him more.

"Distracting me with another source of pain? Would Gotham General like to take another limb from me?" he asked more annoyed shaking his long orange hair out of his face, "You remind me of this one children's tale…Cinderella that's what they call it."

He watched her face beam with pride and happiness. Of course an idiot woman would see that as a compliment. He would have to explain… He shook his head as his long fingers touched the edge of his glasses. "Cinderella always wanted a society she never understood," he began.

"She ends up with the prince," she interrupted with a bright big smile.

He frowned but continued, "Does that mean happiness? She is now forced into the rules of royalty. She no longer has her freedom of the outdoors and is now trapped under the rule of the man she barely knows."

"But she had no freedom under her evil godmother," the girl argued.

"She had chores hardly considered slavery, but again you are too naïve to understand another world besides your own. You live ignorantly in your own daily routines just like she did. You have no right to judge my situation when you cannot even begin to stretch your mind outside your bubble," he scolded her like the child she was. The psychiatrists within Gotham hospitals were horrible. They lived in a dream world. He had a horrible surgery that was interrupted because of the Joker and the most Gotham General could give him was this…twit. All he asked for was more morphine.

Again her face gave off an expression of being brutally beaten, but eventually that big smile came back. "I know this is hard, but I do think distraction idea will help. You haven't complain once about your leg since we started talking," she said proudly.

He paused for a moment. He was still very aware of the pain, but the conversation over her brainpower had drawn his focus away. Could the idiot girl actually be making a point? "Hmm…okay I will hear out your idea," he said folding his arms over his chest and hospital gown.

The already big smile grew even larger…it was almost unnatural. She then bent down and grabbed her bag from the ground. She quickly ruffled through it searching for something in particular. When she found it she let a happy squeak causing him the cringe. She then dropped something of bulk on his lap.

His dark green eyes glanced down to see a familiar book staring up at him. The cover was dark green with the title typed across in a light purple small script format. _When You Do Not Know What I Am, Then I Exist But When You Know What I Am, I Am Nothing. _It was probably the longest titles a book could have, but the title was as much as part of the story as the chapters themselves. He slowly reached out to touch it. He hadn't seen this book for years. "Why do you have this?" he asked as he lifted it up slowly.

"It's one of my favorite books," she said sweetly swaying back and forth in her chair, "You're the author aren't you?"

He glanced at her. The girl acted more like a bubblegum cheerleader then a shrink. This book had a very complicated plot that could only be solved by solving the riddle within the riddle. If the reader missed the overall riddle then they believed the villain actually got away with murder, but if they look in between the lines they realized he was caught within his own trap. It was such a difficult read he only managed to sell a few hundred copies. How was it this girl…could even understand it? "Yes," he said uncaringly judging his name at the bottom of the cover. E. Nigma.

"I think it's really cool how you answer the riddle with your own name," she said to him nodding to the cover.

"What?" he hissed out. He knew that was true, but how did she know?

"Right here," she pointed at his name on the front cover, "E. Nigam. Enigma, which also means Riddle. A Riddle exist when you don't know the answer, but doesn't when you solve it."

Maybe the reason he didn't make a profit on his book was because the riddles were too easy…no that couldn't be it. He decided not to act impressed and sat the book back down on his lap. "What's your point?" he asked.

"That's easy," she answered in her sweet tone, "You're great at making and solving riddles. You should distract yourself with them."

He wanted to laugh. "I'll have you know that by college I had solved hundreds of riddle books. I have yet to find one that challenging enough," he informed.

She pouted out her lower lip in a childlike manner. "Well you could create riddles for others. I love your book. It would be amazing if you could write another one," she suggested.

"I've already done that," he said with a yawn.

She pouted again before finally letting out a sigh and standing. She seemed so disappointed. He couldn't blame her; he would be disappointed if he had her IQ too. "Just think about it," she said with a forced smile before turning to the door. Her walk was determined and almost looked like fleeing, but then she stopped at the door, "If you're so smart then maybe you can answer the riddle on everyone's minds."

His slender eyebrow arched showing his curiosity while he waited for her to continue. Her blue eyes looked calculating as an almost evil grin crossed her face, "Who is the Batman?" She then shrugged in a way that looked like she was laughing at herself, but then left leaving him alone in his room.

Who is the Batman…

What a riddle indeed? He felt his lip stretch into a sideways smirk.

His dark green eyes saw red as his mind refocused on the pool of blood. He really must thank that girl someday for giving him this feeling of power. What was her name? Harleen something. She had left to work at Arkham a week afterwards. He highly doubted she had chance of changing anyone in there.

He tilted his new bowler hat on top of his hair before his eyes caught the bright white of paper. Aw there it was. A stuffed envelope was tossed right underneath the coat rack. The boy had horrible manners and he did make a terrible mess. He glanced back at the blood that seeped in between the wood. It would stain. He would have to have someone clean it up. He slowly moved towards his envelope. The noise of his cane sounding soothed his ear and brought some peace to the tightening in his left leg.

It took him awhile to walk these days, but he could manage. Once the envelope was right below him he stopped. A few of the news clippings and pictures had fallen out. He shook his head. It really was too much for the average man to return the borrowed good in upright condition. He slowly bent his right knee controlling the spasm in his face. His left leg protested this awkward movement, but using his cane he reached down. He was so close to figuring it out and all his proof laid scattered there on the ground. Everything from the Joker to Batman to Jim Gordon and Harvey Dent. All of it! All that they tried to hide he had discovered in a short period. He was only missing one piece still…

Who is the Batman?

But it was a piece that would fall into place once the truth was revealed…and he would reveal the truth. His leg numbed over with the thought allowing him to bend over enough to grab his belongings. He quickly stood up prepared for the pain to return as he placed the envelope in his inside jacket pocket.

He patted his chest with his right hand making sure the envelope was secure. He then brought his hand on top of his other on the cane. For his plan to work he needed two things. Money and people. He had been released from the hospital twenty eight hours and…

He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to glance at the large silver watch. Thirty four minutes ago. He had walked out with that same dilemma and had yet to solve it. Yes tricking the unintelligent minds had distracted him, but he really needed to continue with his overall riddle. His eyes glanced around the small corridor observing all the small details he had yet to notice. The wear dust on the ground showed six different footwear. The holes in the wall meant guns. The large dent meant one of them was probably a body builder with an easy temper. So there would be four men walking through that door eventually. They would all have guns and one would be all muscle. His sideways smirk returned as his pain went to the back of his mind. It looks like he just found his men. He just needed find a water hose…

* * *

Three men all in tattered dirty suits laughed and clung to each other. The smell of alcohol was on their breath and blood on their skin. A fight at the bar was expected these days and it was about the only thing that kept them going after the mob fell a part. In the back hidden in the shadows was an overwhelmingly large black man who seemed to be busting out of his white tank top with muscles. His jean pants were light blue and seemed oddly clean compared to his sweaty white tank. They were stuffed into his large alligator skin boots. A few rumors had even accused this very man of beating down an alligator and skinning it alive to make his boats to prove that crocs were forever better. A tattoo stained his face reminding everyone of the fact. The black loops and scrawl formed a large crocodile face to match his own. He got his name though not from the tat or the boots, but from his teeth. When he was a kid he saw his disgusting father get bit by a pit bull. His father cried. He brought a chisel to his teeth determined to have just as sharp teeth as that dog. He saw his father cry one more time…when his sharp teeth ripped through his throat.

"Croc stop bringin' dwn the mood," one of the guys up front drunkenly shouted back to him.

Croc let out a low annoyed growl. The guy who had shouted back gulped and nervously forced a smile. "Only kiddin' you know," he said then faced forward a little more tense.

Croc wasn't big on human contact. People in general disgusted him, but after the mob disintegrated he couldn't get money his old fashion way. He had to rely on these runts to pickpocket and in return he gave them protection. They turned to the entryway to their dumpy house. A few of the shutters were hanging by a thread and hole in the roof seemed unkind. Even though the house was a disappointment he liked how close they were to the bay. He loved the smell of water even if the water around Gotham was polluted and nasty. He guessed it probably had something do with his mother's love for swimming back down in Mississippi. When his father came home wasted as a bullfrog they would be forced to run out for the night. They ran down this secret pond that even in the middle of nights of cold air stayed a warm seventy degrees.

"What the hell is this?" one of the guys asked as he plucked something off the door. Croc walked a few steps closer, but stopped at the steps. His space was precious and invading it only annoyed him so he always kept a few feet away from people.

"I don't know…is that blood!" another guy squealed in distaste.

His dark brown eyes glanced up at the three men all around the do-whicky that caught their attention like cat to a mouse. One finally ripped away from the group and stepped towards him. He held the thing-of-a-bob that bothered them so at arms length. It was a flimsy sheet of paper with some sort question mark written in red. "What do you think, Croc?" the guy asked him with fearful eyes.

Croc had his arms crossed over his big chest as he studied the paper. He then commented causally, "Prolly ol' joker freaks." His deep southern accent escaped making him seem slightly less threatening.

"But Croc it has a message on the back. What if there's some drive by?" the guy told him.

"Wait what message?" a man behind the first guy looked over his shoulder at the message then read it aloud slowly, "Is it easier to hide in darkness or face the painful truth the light will reveal? What the fuck is this crap?"

Croc frowned. It was a piece a paper. There were more important things to do then studied it. He let out a low growl before pushing past them, "Ah'm goinside ya'll can pondah the little riddle."

The other stood behind still unsure of what to do, but finally decided to follow their protector's lead. His large hand encompassed the doorknob. He slowly twisted it then stopped. His nose smelled something sweet…yet an underline of rot. Someone had definitely been into their hideout that wasn't one of their boys. He slowly opened the door letting a flood of water drench his chins and shoes. "Freakin rickety pipe," he growled out in annoyance determining that one must have broke and stepped into the dark room. His foot splashed with each step he took.

"What the hell! Water's everywhere?" a guy behind him shouted.

"God Damn it! This place is shot!" another said annoyed.

That rotting smell became more evident with each step Croc took in. He stopped and sniffed into the air looking very animalistic. Death and blood that what the smell was. It wasn't just a pipe that had broken. Something had happened.

The three behind him were grumbling about the dark and the water. None of them seemed to realize the threat. "Can someone turn on the lights," one of them asked.

"Oh so that's the answer you're choosing? How…brave," a new voice commented from above.

Croc's eye immediately jumped to where it was. The darkness hid the person exact location, but he was somewhere on the stairs. Croc sunk his hand into his pocket pulling out his metal knuckles.

The others reacted just as fast pulling out their guns and pointing them in the direction of the noise. This caused the person on the stairs to let out a one lighthearted laugh. "Silly brutish men. Always relying on their weapons to compensate," the voice said causally.

"I don't have a tiny dick, asshole, but I'll make sure you don't have one at all once were through with you," one of the guys shouted.

The man let out a deep sigh. "Predictable. I wasn't talking about your manly limb. I was talking about a far more important organ, but I can already tell you don't have one," he told the men.

Croc was getting tired of the bickering. He hated banter. He only saw it as procrastination to the true fight. "Little man, didchew have a point?" he asked, "Cause Ah'm gettin hungry."

It was too dark to actually tell, but he felt eyes on him. Almost like the eyes were seizing him up then spitting him back out. "Killer Croc, correct? Hmm quite interesting. Well my dear sir, I do have a point as you so simple put it. I need men and luckily for all of you I don't have high standards for the menial tasks you will be handling," the voice stated full of arrogance.

It made Croc's sharp teeth grind against one another. He hated arrogance. "Screw this I'm shootin this wacko!" one of the guys shouted.

"Tsk. Tsk. I wouldn't suggest that now you still haven't answered my riddle," the man called out.

Before anyone could respond the room was flooded with light blinding them all, but the true effect that brought them to their knees was the painful electrical current that shot up through their legs and through muscle. The screams of the other men were loud compared to the sound of sparks. Croc even found his limbs involuntarily jerking without his permission as he let out a groan and fell into the water. The shock only got worst as the water attacked more of his skin sending the electricity right through. The pain seemed to last longer then actual time because the light turned off a few second later and darkness flooded their heavy breathing.

"So what do you think? Light or Darkness. Most like it easy and prefer to live in the darkness of ignorance, but you seem like tough men. I could always bring back the light," he said too cheerful.

Croc muscle had soothed as his thoughts returned. What had happened? The water was conducting electricity he got that much. It only happened when the lights were on…the electrical cord somewhere must have been touching the water and this guy has to do is turn on the light switch. Who the hell were they dealing with?

"Who the hell are you?" one of the other guy's voiced his thoughts.

"Aw thanks for asking. There are many names for what I do, but I create and solve the unsolvable. Who am I? I'm the Riddler of course," Croc couldn't see his face but he assumed a cocky smirk was about it, "But you all may call me Boss." This man was bothersome, but Croc did like the authority. He liked the drive. He liked the fact that he might not have to protect petty pickpocketers anymore.

"This is bullshit. I'm not working for some insane Gotham criminal freak," the same voice protested again.

Without warning the light switched on again and once more Croc was surprised by the amount of voltage that jutted through his system. His mind so focus on the pain barely noticed the sound of gunfire right next to him and the silencing of his buddy's scream.

The lights went out and again Croc ripped himself off the water with a low annoyed growl.

"What happens to people in the way of progress?" the voice asked sweetly to the silent now three men in the room.

Croc stood their waiting for the man to answer his own question. He was beginning to understand this guys habit and already learning to work with it. He managed to make so much under Maroni by not talking back and agreeing. He assumed this Riddler freak would be just as easy.

"You're shot," one of the other guys suggested nervously.

The entire room was silent, but the air felt thick. Croc's muscle tensed ready for another electrical burst through his system. Maybe he would break the Riddler's jaw to make up for the electrocution phase, but then he wouldn't have a job. Then again there were no guarantees this man had money. Then again he could cook up this man and have him for dinner if all went bad. This was usually how Killer Croc determined things. He went back and forth until it ended with him gettin fed.

"Excellent!" the Riddler said in a giddy tone. "Now I only have one test," he began speaking. Croc heard the man's step down a stair then a loud thud followed. It repeated with each step. "All you have to do is answer a riddle? What is it that walks on four legs then two then three?"

Croc would admit that he wasn't much of a genius. He never liked riddles, and he wasn't going to pretend to know. It looked like this man would be lunch after all because if he thought some electric current would stop Croc from getting to his probably scrawny neck he had another thing coming.

"Oh I know this!" one of the guys said in a hurried happy voice, "A human being. As a baby they're on four…adult two…then with a cane making three. Mama always loved that one."

Bang.

Croc was caught off guard with the sounding shot. Like he said before he wasn't no genius, but that sounded right.

"Wrong," the Riddler said in a high sweet voice, "The answer is a baby. True it crawls on all fours, but cut off its legs and it can only wiggle on two. Give it a crutch, it can hobble around on three."

Croc couldn't help himself. This man was fucked up like a chicken in a dog fair, but that was pretty damn funny. A deep chuckle came from his throat. He felt the Riddler's eyes on him. He seemed to be trying to judge whether to kill him or not. Croc didn't feel threatened, but he finally responded, "I'll work for ya."

The man took a step forward causing the moonlight to lighten half of his face. Croc saw the smirk appear on his face. His eyes were still hidden from the reflective glasses. "I don't remember giving you a choice, but even I know what happens when you stick your hand in a crocodile's mouth," he said as his hand moved to put his gun away.

Croc found his big lips turning into a smirk. Humorous. He could put up with him. The other man left seemed a bit unnerved. He was the smallest and kept quiet most of the time. His blonde hair was dirty and thick making him look homeless instead of handsome. His suit had also not seen the wash for sometime. The man began fidgeting with his fingers as he asked, "Mr…Mr…Riddler…uh what is it you want us to do?"

The Riddler took another step forward revealing his entire form into the moonlight. His black bowler had shaded his pointy features of his face. Croc noticed his one free hand pull something out of his pocket. He thought it was a knife to take care of the last kid but was surprised to see a lollipop. Croc watched as the Riddler slowly undid the covering of the lollipop with only one hand. He realized why once he saw the cane. A man with a cane had managed to trick them all. Croc shook his head with that same smirk. This nut was really something. "Stupid questions do irritate me, boy," the Riddler said in a deeper but calm voice.

The boy flinched at the statement ready for some painful retribution that never came. The Riddler just dropped his wrapper into the water and placed the lollipop into his mouth. "However," he began with a full mouth, "Since you are new to this I will tell you. It's actually very simple. What's the backbone of every transaction yet worthless in material and valuable in mind?"

Croc stood their staring at the cripple man in a bad suit. This would get annoying if he kept asking them. The Riddler's eyebrow seemed to arch in the waiting silence before he let out a sigh. "I obviously can not come to you two for a challenge," he said annoyed walking to the door. His cane made a weird sloshing sound through the water. Croc followed and the boy came running after.

"But…but what is it?" the boy asked from behind Croc.

"What did I say about stupid question?" the Riddler snapped and the boy shut up immediately. They walked outside of the dumpy house where the Riddler shook the edge of his pants leg to get the water out. He then looked at the boy who seemed frightened shitless. The Riddler sighed, "Do you want a tootsiepop?"

The boy seemed a bit taken a back. He obviously couldn't determine if there was a secret threat or not. Actually Croc wasn't sure if the man was being serious. The boy finally nodded cautiously as the Riddler reached into his pocket again. Croc watchful eyes waited for a gun or a knife, but he pulled out a lollipop once again. He then handed it out to the boy who timidly took it. The Riddler smiled and continued to speak, "I do love tootsiepops," he rolled the lollipop in his mouth to stress the point, "Riddle me this boy, how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?"

The boy who had just unwrapped the wrapper and was about to stick it in his mouth froze. His eyes went big trying to figure it out. "Uh…" he began.

"Exactly! No one knows. It's the only unsolvable riddle in the world. Not even I can figure it out. Those tootsie roll bastards. Anyways," he said adjusting his bowler hat and continuing to the sidewalk, "Like I was saying before we need money."

Croc gave the man a confused look. When did he mention money? The Riddler just kept on moving, "And what place has more money then a bank?"

Croc snorted at how arrogantly easy he made it sound. "Ya do know banks ain't no easy money," he said his statement not expecting it change this crazy man's mind.

The Riddler just turned his head back to him with a wicked smirk, "Of course I do that's why were going to give the police a clue!"

….

What the hell did he just get himself into? "Crazy as a chicken at a dog fair," Croc repeated in a soft whisper as he mentally prepared himself for the worst…riddler dinner with a side of Gotham police.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: No one is reviewing :( so that makes me question how good this story actually is...but i love coming up with these riddles. there fun. this chapter was probably one of the toughest ive had to write. i will probably go back and change somethings tomorrow. anyways review if you like or you dont understand something.

* * *

_In a Chinese old tale, a dragon came to an unappreciative village and took what each villager loved most. While the lesson learned, it was quickly forgotten so the dragon returned the next lunar cycle and the next. But eventually the dragon broke his back and the villager starved…because rocks can only destroy your teeth._

_Riddle me this, what will be taken from the unappreciative Gotham citizens?_

_Luck Number 733708 99_

"We got it this morning. A year ago I would have passed it off as some kids playing jokes, but after what we been through…I just would rather be cautious. So what do you think?" Gordon said shifting his weight to his other leg as he talked out into the darkness. The cool night air pushed up against his skin as he looked down from the rooftop.

"It's not the Joker. This isn't his style. Not enough flash," a dark raspy voice spoke from his side.

Gordon knew the Batman stood on the cement ledge hundreds of feet from a terrible fall. He felt guilty for how secretive their meetings had to be, but that was the price of preserving the hope of Harvey Dent. He didn't like lying to Gotham, but sometimes the truth was to tough to handle. "I agree, but another lunatic so soon," he let out a tired sigh, "We just put away the Joker last month."

Silence encompassed his sad statement. It felt like Gotham tiredly weight down on both of them. But Jim Gordon's shoulders were use to the weight and he was willing to carry it.

"It's a bank robbery," Batman spoke straight to the point.

The thought of money had occurred to him when he first read the riddle, but money sources could be multiple things these days. "Are you sure? There are quite a few Jewelry stores through out Gotham," he stated his concern.

"The story…I've heard it before. A small village came upon a unique green rock that they used for currency. Their greed over the rock drove the people to overlook their family values. The dragon in order to save his village tried to show the people the worthlessness of the rock, but no matter his attempts the town only found a new currency to greed over. This story is a comment on money not jewels," Batman informed him.

Gordon chewed over the Batman's words before pushing his hand through his hair in slight frustration, "Even if he plans to rob a bank, I'm limited in my course of action. I don't have the man power to cover all banks in Gotham to protect from a robbery that could happen tomorrow or weeks from tomorrow."

Again silence filled the rooftop as they both looked over options. This criminal told them of his planned action, but how could he prevent it? He would definitely warn all banks to tightened their security, but would that be enough?

"You don't have to. The answer's in the riddle," the Batman's haggard voice responded with a tinge of realization.

"What do you mean?" Gordon turned to face the man in the shadows but even with his glasses could barely make out the man.

"He's going to make his move on Friday at noon," the Batman stated.

Gordon felt his eyes widened at the exact date and time. "How…" he began to say.

"The New moon is this Thursday night," Batman stated.

"And the dragon made his move at the beginning of each lunar cycle," Gordon said throwing an arm in the air at understanding, but it still didn't explain the time, "Why noon?"

"In the story the dragon used the sun to blind his attackers. The sun was the brightest at noon," he informed him.

These were the points in time that Gordon was proud to have this man on their side. Yes, his team could have probably sorted through Chinese fables and come upon the same conclusion, but this fast…probably not. "We still have the problem of limited men. There are sixty seven banks in Gotham," Gordan stated as he began determining on how to get the SWAT team involved without sending them on a goose chase.

He heard the Batman grunt and saw him holding out the postcard like message. Gordon slowly took the card staring once more at the upside down green question mark on the back and the blue font in the front. Who ever made it went through quite a hassle. Each letter was cut from a Chinese fortune found in every breakable Chinese cookie. It made the font small and difficult to read. He looked over it again rereading what he had already read a hundred times today.

"Look at the number," Batman stated and Gordon's eyes fell to the random numbers determined to be lucky, "He's giving us his bank. He put it all right in front of us."

"There's no address or coordinates," Gordon argued obviously not seeing what the Batman had picked out.

"How much do banks usually keep in reserve?" his gruff voice asked and Gordon's logic followed.

He glanced down at the number. There was no bank in the world besides maybe the Federal Reserve that held 73 million dollars in reserve. "That's too high of a number," he pointed out.

"There is a space between the nine and the eight. Seven hundred Thirty Three thousand seven hundred and eight and ninety nine cents. You know of any banks with that exact amount in their reserves?" he asked.

Gordon's eyes widened in surprised finally understanding. The man was taunting them. He was telling them the exact amount he planned to steal from the bank. It was insulting. Well at least they had figured it out in time. They were going to snuff this flame before it turned into a fire as raging as the Joker had become. Gordon felt himself smile, "I'll run a search and my men will be covering the bank all day Friday." He turned to look at the Batman but he had already disappeared into the night. Gordon shook his head, "He always does that."

The door flung opened revealing the new MCU lieutenant, David Cornwell. His tan button down shirt was stuffed awkwardly into his jeans showing the mess they all currently felt. A slight bulge of stomach revealed that Cornwell was a ten-year if someone could determine it off the haggardness in his face. His light blond hair seemed more ratty and pulled then Gordon's. "Commissioner," his voice stated hoarsely.

"Lieutenant," he stated back as he pulled stood up straighter.

"We found the fable mentioned. We think this riddler person plans to rob a bank," he stated the Batman's own conclusion, "I have some other things I would like to discuss as well with you."

"And what would that be?" he asked with a tired small smile as he walked over to the man who had taken over his job. He felt proud that his men didn't need the Batman's help entirely.

"I am just checking that Batman is still our number one enemy," the hoarse voice had a threatening tone to it and Gordon definitely did not overlook it.

"Our main target has not change, but that doesn't mean we should overlook future threats," he said in a deeper tone.

"I'm only mentioning it because you do tend to visit the rooftops when coming down to the MCU," he suggested the obvious.

Gordon paused in his step. It was the first time since Batman had become Gotham's public enemy number one that someone had so bluntly accused him of still working with the Batman. He causally shrugged like the comment had no effect. "Old habits son…old habits," he muttered taking a glance at the destroyed spotlight. Maybe someday…it all could change. He sighed. For now they had to focus on riddles.

* * *

A vibrating noise sounded from his loose slack pocket. His left hand put more pressure on his cane as his right hand reached into the black slacks and plucked out a blackberry. Putting more weight on his left side caused his leg to scream, but he rolled the cherry flavor tootsie pop in his mouth focusing on his numbers of licks instead of the clawing pain.

A bright little square box popped up on the screen reading You Have a Message. He scrolled over to the view button and quickly the screen went white showing three expected words.

Cops are here.

A smug smiled appeared on his lips. He had to admit he was slightly impressed that the police had managed to figure that much of his riddle out, yet as expected they failed to see the riddle within the riddle. Truly the world is filled with the intellectually challenged.

He quickly texted back, At 12:40 pick me up. He placed his phone back into his uncomfortable pants. Everything was going to plan. Croc and Shorty (he now deemed him that because his IQ was too low for him to care about his real name) were currently outside Gotham City Bank. Shorty keeping him informed through text and Croc watching silently from the car. Croc of course could not text with his huge sausage like hands so the task was trusted to the kid. It was a simple task so possibly he wouldn't mess it up.

But as he knew, if you wanted something done right you had to do it yourself. The Riddler patted his crazy orange hair down and adjusted his bright lime green polo. He looked presentable and average except for the cane. He tossed the lollipop into the trash before he slowly limped up the handicap ramp to the Wells Fargo bank. Once in front of the glass door he struggled to push it open. Amazingly enough his leg barely felt the pain, his mind too focus on the task at hand. He stepped into the large bank filled with wooden oak desk in the middle and long arching counters in the back. A small line towards the back showed the few people making deposits or withdraw while most of the people were staffers dealing with loans applications. He walked right up to the sectary desk right in the front of the rows of desks. The young girl just hung up a phone calls as he placed his right hand on the counter.

"Hello, Mr. Jacob Willington called us in to fix his computer," the Riddler said sweetly pointing to his GeekSquad nametag.

Her mouth formed a surprised oh expression. "That was quite fast. I only called a few minutes ago," she stated.

"I was in the area," he settled her jumping conclusions.

"Of course, well Mr. Willington's office is on the fourth floor. I'll buzz you in the elevator," she said nodding to the elevator on the left side. He nodded and turned towards the elevator. He did not favor wearing a low professional's uniform, but could overlook the fact by knowing how smoothly everything was going. He walked into the elevators door that held reflective mirrors on all sides. As the doors closed he took in the image of himself. He had gotten so use to wearing the bowler hat over the last week he had forgotten how tragically wild his hair could look. He shifted the black cane so the very sharp point at the edge didn't scratch along the floor then adjusted his light purple gloves as the elevator traveled up the floors. The door finally opened to another sectary desk, this desk even larger then before. He read the large name in white print along the wall painted with horses, District Director Jacob Willington. His computer would hold all the information he needed. Like the great saying knowledge was power.

He slowly limped over to the old woman who had the phone glued to her ear. She waved him along to the office behind her. He wanted to smirk, but held back his pride. His hand reached out for the doorknob.

"Oh sir," the old woman called out.

Damn.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"This needs to be fixed within an hour. Mr. Willington will be back from lunch by then," she informed him and went back to the phone call.

His thin lips transformed into a stretched smirk. "I only need fifteen," he answered arrogantly as he opened the door into the large office with the view of the street below. He limped over to the large screen computer and then plopped himself down on the comfortable leather chair. Bankers lived well, he noted before shaking the mouse and the computer alive. Just as expected, the screen was black except for the Green Question mark. He could transfer a virus with a simple sent email. He also could easily erase it.

He leaned his cane against the desk before both his hands went for the keyboard. He quickly typed in the order of the formula needed behind the virus and the question mark vanished revealing Mr. Willington's open screen. He started to wonder where the challenge truly was as the ache in his leg returned. He rubbed his left hand along it slowly before returning his focus. He opened up the file drive and hurried through the hundreds of digital vanilla envelopes. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

Account Information

He clicked on it causing a security password to pop up. He frowned. He looked around the desk seeing a few pictures of a man with a woman and some with two girl, but there was something common about all of them. A big Bernice mountain dog licked, sat, or lounged in each picture with a happy man stroking its head. Popular names for big dogs about six years back? Children were involved so it had to be simple. He noticed the shotgun in one picture. They are outdoor people. The name has to do with brown…big and brown and outdoors and simple.

He typed Bear into the password space then clicked enter. The password box went away then a large excel document appeared with names, account numbers, passwords, and usernames. Oh the greatness of the internet. He could now rob these people blind without even getting cash…but unfortunately he needed cash…and unfortunately banks only keep 10% of their total money in reserve. So he just needed to steal that 10% from these people then withdraw it from another bank taking cash. He glanced through the names looking for the larger amounts. He found four in particular. Using his blackberry he quickly logged into each account and sent a bulk amount of dollars to his Swedish account until the total reached 733,708.99 dollars. He smirked then pulled out a CD from his pocket. He placed it into the hard drive for the police to find later. It should take about a half an hour before the bank realizes they just lost three quarters of a million dollars.

He was finish here. He stood up and walked around the desk. He only hoped everything else was going according to plan.

* * *

Gordon sat in a car in front of Gotham City Banks glass doors. He had been there since six o'clock this morning checking each person who walked in with a baggage or large trench coat. His hand held tightly onto the walkie-talkie waiting for his men in the back alley or inside to tell them if they found something. It was approaching one o'clock and still there had been no sign of trouble. It was possible that their stake out had been seen and the crooks had decided against it. While the plausibility seemed most likely, Gordon had a hard time convincing himself that a man who wrote riddles would be so easily thwarted.

"Are you sure this is the right bank Commissioner?" doubtful Cornwell asked.

"It's the only bank that had exactly 733708.99 in their reserve three days ago," he informed with a serious expression. His eyes did not leave the entrance of this bank.

He heard a tired sigh from his side and then a movement of an arm. Cornwell had bought five cups of coffee that now littered his car. Gordon did his best to ignore the unenthused cop and focused on the door. Had they been wrong about the bank? Had it all been a setup?

A loud coughing choking noise escaped the cop at his side's throat. Gordon quickly looked over. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Cornwell, through chokes and gasp, pointed at the driver mirror in the middle. Gordon's gaze followed his chubby finger to the mirror. His eyes immediately widened at what he saw. Walking towards the bank were at least forty people wearing dragon mask in all colors, shapes, and sizes. He hadn't expected so many. The walkie-talkie was at his mouth immediately as he whispered his commands, "About forty people walking south on Hansen street towards GCB. They might be armed and dangerous. Back up should be sent to GCB. I want the people on the roof hidden, aimed, and ready. Everyone one else leave your vehicles and surround them…Now!"

Following his own order he pulled out his weapon as he opened his door quickly pointing it at the large group of people. His body was crouched close to the car as he held out his badge and gun. "Stop now in order of the Gotham's City Police," he shouted at the large group that had literally become as still as statues. The clicks of other guns being ready fire sounded all around as the group became trapped.

"Woah! Woah! Woah! Dude! What the hell are you doing?" a shrill boyish voice shouted as he ripped off his mask.

"Hands where we can see them!" Gordon shouted flinching at the abrupt movement.

But as the mask fell to the ground it revealed a teenage boys acne reddened face. All the others quickly shot their hands to the air. "What are you doing here?" Gordon asked suspiciously as he took in the dragon mask outfits. The style seemed very young.

"We…we….we just got an invitation," a female voice stuttered out from behind a mask.

Gordon felt his frame relaxing yet going tense all at the same time. These weren't their bank robbers, but showing up in dragon masks could not have happen by chance. "Does anyone have this invitation?" he asked aloud.

A few nodded. Gordon pointed to one wearing a white mask towards the edge. "You had the invitation over to the detective," he ordered.

The person quickly buried his hand into his pocket then pulled out a small flyer and handed it to the female detective's outstretch hand. Detective Takahata studied the paper in her hand, "Gordon they're telling the truth. It's some flyer saying they can get free tickets to the band Killer Dragon if they show up here this time wearing mask," she informed him, "There is a green question mark on the back."

A flood of frustration hit him. Had this been the bank robber's intention in the first place…to make a mockery out of their system? "Gun's down," he ordered everyone, "Kid's I'm sorry, but those are false flyers. We're going to have to question you on where you got them." He returned his gun to his holster feeling the stress along with it.

BZZZ.

His walkie-talkie went active as a central GCPD agent went on. "A 1209, a 1209 has been committed at Wells Fargo on 66 Boleel Street. Requesting all GCPD forces a 1209," it repeated into the air.

Gordon teeth grinded together in frustration. It was all a distraction to get them away from the true bank robbery. He slammed his fist on top of the roof of his car. "Everyone get going except for Takahata and her partner. Get a few of those kids to precinct for questioning," he shouted out as he pushed himself into the car and off to figure out whom exactly they were dealing with.

* * *

The Riddler sat in the back seat of their minivan. His hands quickly transferred the money from one account to the next to the next on his small blackberry. If he could jump the money from account to account it would take longer for the police to track down the ending point. Luckily he had the last half an hour to jump accounts.

"Mr. Riddler sir…theyre leaving," Shorty said from the passenger seat.

"Good," he stated as he made the last transfer of account to his alias account in Gotham City Bank.

"It still don't make no sense. I ain't understandin how they gonna let you walk out with it," Croc muttered from the front. He had been disappointed from the beginning to find out he was really no use for the entire plan. He kept suggesting a physical fight, but as the Riddler pointed out it would only draw needless attention.

"Like I said before. This bank does not know that I digitally stole the funds from four wealthy gothamnites. It has been transferred through so many accounts at this time it would take them a day to retrace the steps. By law then when I close out my false account that now holds the three quarters of a million dollars they have to give me the money even if it depletes their 10% reserve. It is legally my money to have," he repeated the plan, but Croc's bored face told him he wasn't listening.

The Riddler sighed before putting his phone into his jacket pocket. Once reaching the car and during their wait he had quickly changed into his outfit. Green pin stripe jacket, green pointy-toed shoes, blue jeans, black bowler hat, light purple gloves, light purple lapel, and a white tee shirt. He had decided to add a piece to the overall allure of his presence though. Written with permanent marker was a large black question mark along his white tee shirt. It fit and made him recognizable by the police. He couldn't just have great riddles without bragging that he had made them. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before pulling the mini van door open. With his cane he balanced himself on the sidewalk and gentle put himself down. He pulled out a blue tootsies pop from his jacket and unwrapped it. He placed it in his mouth before mumbling out to the other two, "All be right back."

With that he walked right pass the disperse of kids. The cops already cleared the area thinking it was all a joke or distraction. If only they had read the riddle properly…

He walked into the bank that was smaller then the last. There were only two people behind the counter and one person just leaving after depositing a check. The main bank offices were obviously through the side wooden doors, but those weren't a concern to him today. He walked over to a plump brunette woman who gave him a cheerful smile, "Deposit or withdrawal today sir?"

"Actually I wish to close my bank account," he informed her as he leaned his elbow on the counter.

"Oh that is unfortunate. Well I will need your account number and ID. Also would you like this to be transferred to another account or taken in cash?" she asked with another big smile.

"Cash actually," he answered. He rolled the lollipop with his finger having the flavor swirl in his mouth.

"Okay can do…" she began as she grabbed the number. She quickly typed the number in and waited. The Riddler watched as her lower lip fell creating a gaping idiotic look. "Uh Mr…Nashton, you do realize this account has 733708.99 in it?" she asked.

"Yes I am," he acted unconcerned with the number.

"Well…I'm just not sure if I can give you all this in cash…" she said uncomfortably.

"I must have it in cash," he repeated.

She nodded, "Let me talk with a manager." She quickly sat up showing off her ugly grey woman suit. She then hurried to the back. The Riddler started to count licks as he stood there waiting. Eventually she came back out with two men. She pointed to the screen and they both looked over it.

"Hello Mr. Nashton," one of them said finally looking at him, "This is a lot of money you are pulling out. Is there not anyway I can get you stay with us at Gotham City Bank."

"Unfortunately not. This money is going towards something special. I need it immediately," he said feeling slightly agitated with all the bureaucracy.

"Well you see Mr. Nashton," the other man stated still staring at the computer screen, "A bank is only required to have 10% of their money on hand…and the amount that you are asking is just under 10% of the money our bank makes."

"I know this, and I do not understand how this is my problem. You cannot keep my money because you are unprepared to handle such a withdrawal. I legally have the right to sue you for such an action," he said with a calm tone, but his patience was wearing thin.

The two managers looked at each other before letting out a sigh. "Close down the bank for the rest of the day. I will get on the phone with the investment banks to get a larger flow," one of the men said before turning back in the office.

The other nodded, "Susan put the closed sign on the door." He then turned to the Riddler, "Let's get your account closed and out of here Mr. Nashton."

It took an hour of counting and moving, but eventually eight bags sat in the back of the mini van all put there by the security guards of Gotham City Bank. The Riddler only lounged in the back seat counting the licks until he reached the tootsie center, but like always lost count and started again. When the back doors finally shut, the Riddler said his thanks and the three of them were on their way.

"That lawful withdrawal ain't so bad. It actually worked," Croc muttered in surprised as his dark eyes kept glancing at the bags.

The Riddler only shrugged. "It pays to be the most intelligent man in the city," he said pretty unenthusiastically. He couldn't appreciate the money as much as Croc and Shorty did. His leg had started up again which only proved this wasn't enough of a challenge. He had to do something bigger…and his mind was already working over what it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

He pushed the disgusting meshed green peas around in his plate with his finger. You would think that Arkham could put together more of a meal, he thought as he smacked his lips together in distaste. No matter. He grabbed some of the mush peas and put them in two separate circles on the pile of mash potatoes. He then used his hand to shape the white potatoes into more square shape. A carefree whistle came from his lips as he shaped the top of the potatoes into two sharp points.

"I'm surprised they let you out here," a smooth reflective voice commented. The Joker took a quick glance to see the thin brunette, Jonathan Crane, sitting down across from him. Joker had decided to take up the largest table and like he expected everyone avoided him like the plague. A few inmate were even eating their lunch standing so they wouldn't have to sit in his presence yet Crane didn't seem to care…or wanted something from him.

He licked the edges of his lips slowly before speaking, "I'm surprised they let you go without your burlap sack, Scaredy Cat," he said with wide eyes. He then leaned in and nodded to the other in mates, "You do realize we are trrrrrying to eat."

He noticed the hint of irritation in Scarecrow's blue eyes causing his scars to stretch in a smile. "You could have fooled me," he muttered aggressively pushing his fork into his food.

"I'm makin art, Scaredy Cat. You wouldn't understand cause you got no creative bone in your body," the Joker said adding a simple carrot as the mouth.

"Creating different chemicals is quite creative, clown," he stated annoyed. The Joker knew the Scarecrow wasn't too fond of him. He did get quite pissy when he broke into his cell to say hello last week. He thought that was a bit rude. It should be honored that he wanted to meet him. Instead he threw a fit like a teenage girl not getting her favorite prom dress.

"Pfft. If you were creative you would come up with better plans…but see," he turned his tray around to reveal his masterpiece, "It's Batzy!"

"I used the water supply to submerge the narrows in fear! How is that not creative?" he shouted completely disregarding the hard work he went through.

The Joker frowned as looked down at his unappreciated work. He smacked his lips together before looking back up at Crane. "Ya know it's rude to disregard someone hard work. I should teach you some manners…I know…we could have midnight sessions…like how to hold your pinky when you drink," he said with a huge smile and excitement in his voice. He leaned over the table and quickly grabbed Crane's hand causing his eyes to shriek and his mouth to gap open. He really was a coward. He grabbed his pinky and slowly pulled it back, "Ya see you keep it out and…" He put more a little more force threatening to break it.

"It's amazing picture. It looks exactly like him," Crane answered in a rush pointing at his food design.

The Joker had immediately forgotten about what he was doing and dropped his hand to look back at his artwork. "Ya you're right Scaredy Cat…it does. It's even square like him!" the Joker said with a laugh.

The Scarecrow only held his hand close to his chest giving the Joker a suspicious look. The Joker slammed the palm of his hand into the mash potatoes. "Bye Batz," he said with a large looming smile feeling the mush through his fingers. He let out a laugh at how entertaining this disgusting lunch had become. Add a little chaos into anything and life became funny. He also got to see his little Harlequin today…being a prisoner of war couldn't be more fun.

However there was something destroying the mood…

He looked up to the brunette who seemed to be seizing up his every mood. He was doing that psychiatrist thing that the Joker absolutely hated. The Joker frowned as he pulled his hands out of the food. He flicked it at the man across from him who cringed in disgust. "What's got your straw tied up in knots?" he asked.

The brunette eyes turned away from the Joker's cold gaze in search of napkins. "I just assumed you would be in a miserable mood, yet here you are playing with your food. I was expecting more of a reaction," he said causally.

The Jokers frowned only deepened. He hated when people acted like shrinks. This guy was supposed to be a higher class of villain like himself…not some bore. "What are you talking about?" he said in a deeper throaty voice.

His hand froze on the napkin. "Have you not heard?" his eyes widening as an evil side smile appeared on his face, "No wonder you're acting so carefree."

Okay the Joker was officially peeved. What the hell was this bag of straw rambling on about? "You keep moving your lips yet nothing useful is coming out of them," he said in a tense tight-lipped voice.

The doctor without his license closed his eyes with an all-knowing smile gracing his lips. "It will be interesting to see how you react to your own fear. Narcissist hate loosing attention after all," the Scarecrow said noting his thoughts in his mind.

"Scaredy Cat…I hope you realize I know where you sleep," he said with a stretched but annoyed smile, "I also like your bed better then mine."

The arrogant smirk finally fell as he pulled against the orange jump suit collar. "You cannot get mad at me for informing you," he stated to him.

"Blah…blah…blah. Can you get to point I'm rotting away here!" the Joker said about to reach over and bash the Scarecrow's brains in…wait what brains! Scarecrows don't have any! Haha.

"There's a new criminal throwing Gotham into a tizzy," he informed.

The Joker arched an eyebrow, which would normally make his eyes look huge as the dark circles grew, but without the make up just gave him a humorous appearance. Then out of nowhere, he started laughing. His yellow teeth revealed to the world as he crackled. All of the inmates even turned their head to give him a fearful look. "Oh ah ha ho…are your serious straw for brains? Why the hell would I care about some new mobster or random criminals?" he said through a strained breath.

The brunette crossed his arms over his chest in a very feminine way with a pout. "They're calling this guy bigger then the Joker," he muttered out annoyed.

Joker's soft laughs stopped abruptly. His eyes focused on the man across from him. "What?" he snapped in a fast voice.

The Scarecrow's lip barely tilted into a smirk, but he repeated, "They say he's bigger then the Joker."

"WHAT?" the Joker shouted loudly silencing the entire cafeteria. His form now loomed over the table with his fist planted against the counter top. "Bigger than me? I tested the society's boring rules! I broke this city backbone turning their one sense of hope to the gutter! I proved insanity is only one bad day away! What worthless fleck of dust on my purple suit could be bigger then me?"

Scarecrow felt his mouth stretch into a larger smirk. This was his revenge for the Joker's rude awakening last week. Yes there was a new criminal in town, but no one had mentioned him being more destructive then the Joker…but stretching the truth to create fear in his experiments never hurt anyone…or did it? He didn't particularly care. "He managed to rob a bank even after giving the police the address, time, and date. He's some sort of genius," he taunted the raving lunatic.

The Joker let out a low growl from deep in his throat. "You see," the Joker began with a calmer more fatherly voice, "you give and give all your worth," he stepped up on his chair then on top of the table. He slowly started pacing back and forth along the long tabletop. "And what do you get in return? Zich, Natta, Nothing. They replace you," he said putting his hands behind his back as he paced, "They never appreciate what you done for them! But it's not like you can abandon them to the unknown. That would just be cruel." He stopped moving and let out an exaggerated sigh, "It looks like Daddy's gotta go and take care of his kids."

"CLOWN GET DOWN!" an orderly shouted weaving through the other tables.

Again Crane found himself smiling. He just bought the Joker probably three more weeks of high security. Oh how enjoyable!

"DOWN NOW!" another orderly shouted. Their table was now surrounded with many ten guards focus all on the psychotic clown.

"Oh do you guys want to know how I got these scars?" the clown asked causally at the yelling men all pointing loaded guns at him. "My uncle had an antique shop and one day little oh me walked in seeing it in a cluttered mess," he said pointing to himself as he pranced along the long table. Scarecrow shifted away before he got shot in the crossfire. "I decided I should help! That's nice right!" he started nodding shaking his green hair that showed an inch of dark root in the process. "So I start sorting through the junk and trashing what looked really old. It took a few hours, but eventually I had the place SPOTLESS," the Joker threw his hands in the air causing all the guards to flinch back. "Now I sit there waiting for my Uncle with a happy grin and what do you know he walks in seeing his clean almost empty store. I keep waiting for a thank you, you know?" he said lightly stepping from one table to another. He causally kicked the food trays out of the way as the inmates leaned back. Just as the Joker opened his mouth again something whizzed through the air and into his neck. The Joker swat his neck like a fly revealing a long shot full of drugs. His face stretched into a large smile as he began laughing, "What you don't want to hear the end of my story?" His walk had become struggled as he started weaving from side to side.

The Scarecrow with the rest of the people in Arkham's cafeteria watched as the man with half green hair plummeted face first into the table causing the dishes to cling and clang together. The Scarecrow smiled to himself as he watched the Clown Prince get dragged out of the room. Never disturb a Master of Fear in their sleep you never know what nightmare you have awoken.

* * *

His coarse hand rubbed against his face and under his glasses as he attempted to push the stress away. Gordon had never felt so stupid in all his years at the force. He sat in his fancy new office that only made him feel uncomfortable while the phone line rang and rang and rang. He sat his chin into the palm of his hand as his eyes stared at the first message. It had been there the whole time.

66 BOLEEL

The upside down numbers spelled the address to the first bank he robbed electronically. If they had seen the clue within the question mark sooner they would have figured it out.

_Question marks are only upside down in foreign languages._

The question mark was upside down when they read the regular message. They had to turn it around to read the truth. The images of the security tape played in his mind. The man had walked in and stole all that money into his account. He then walked into the second bank and legally withdrew all the money he had just stolen. The bank guards had actually helped him pack up his van! Who were they dealing with?

"We still have yet to identify this man, but he single handedly managed to steal almost a million dollars from the bank yesterday afternoon. The GCPD has yet to make a comment about the supposed riddles the man left as clues to stop the act. If the GCPD can't stop crimes with clues how do they expect to clean up Gotham or catch the Batman? It looks like the Riddler, as the public is calling him, has outsmarted them all. Maybe we should look into personal safes?" Ryder lightly joked to his co host on GCN. Gordon switched off the news. He couldn't handle it at the moment and focused his eyes on the computer CD. It had been left for them as a gift.

With a sigh he grabbed it and shoved it into the desktop of his computer. He had seen the video fifty time already, but the video kept nagging at him. He waited for the little CD sign to pop up on his computer screen. He scrolled his mouse over to it then double clicked. A window opened revealing a man sitting on a red chair. Both of his hands were on a cane while his chin rested just above them. A bright green screen shimmered in the background popping this dark figure out more. Gordon's focus was on the smug smirk.

"Riddle me this," the man began and sat up straighter shifting his cane to the side, "What's fat, brutish, and eats way too many donuts?" The light reflected off the man's glasses as he tilted his head waiting, "Give up? Well it's Gotham City's Police Department obviously." The man let out a soft giggle before leaning back in his chair. "I would like to say I am impressed with your detective work, but since you failed to solve my simple riddle I find myself wondering why my taxes pay you. Hmm," he shrugged as one hand went into his jacket pocket, "A riddle right there…what do we pay the GCPD to do?"

His eyes seemed to focus away from the camera as he pondered the though and pulled out something red from his pocket. "Communicate with the Batman so he can do all their work…that seems like a reasonable answer," he said with a snide smirk as unwrapped the object. "However, that is a riddle for another day. This video is more of my welcome present!" he said with a smile pointing what looked like a lollipop away from him to exaggerate his point. "I am called the Riddler and why am I here? Trust me I don't want to hurt anyone! I just hope to test the intelligence of Gotham city." He smiled bringing the lollipop right to his lips. He then pulled it away again, "Yes, I do expect most to fail because as you and the entire GCPD have already proven with your White Knight riddle, this city is full of moronic beast."

Gordon cringed at the Harvey Dent reference, but continued to watch.

"So while I challenge myself with the true big mystery I will challenge Gotham with its own true fate. Therefore I must ask Gotham," the Riddler stated causally before pulling his cane into the center between his legs. He stuck the lollipop into his mouth before placing both his hands on the cane. He then slowly leaned his face forward revealing his first full wide grin with the lollipop stick sticking up to the right, "Are you ready for a riddle?"

The tape went black.

Bruce stared at the large screen in the Batcave. He reached out for one of the black knobs and slowly rewound the video to the Riddler's grinning face.

"I do say Master Bruce, you do tend to cultivate Gotham's craziest," Alfred said from behind him.

Bruce didn't turn to face Alfred. Instead his fingers gently glided across his new computer system set up in the cave. "This man is something else Alfred. I can't determine if he actually as insane as the Joker or just brilliant," Bruce commented as his computer started comparing pictures to every picture found on the Internet.

"As you came across before, there is quite a thin line between brilliance and insanity," Alfred informed him as he placed his dinner on the flat surface next to him. It was very unlikely it would get eaten.

"I feel like it's too much to ask for only simple minds to be attracted to crime," Bruce joked with a small smile, but secretly pleaded.

"But then what would Master Bruce do on his many nights," Alfred smiled himself at the little joke.

Bruce shifted his chair to face Alfred for a moment. "He's going to try to reveal the truth, Alfred. It's the only explanation for the big mystery. I have to stop him for Gotham's sake," he said with that tired defiance in his eyes.

"Stop a man from clearing your name. I never took you as a masochist, Master Bruce," Alfred responded.

Again Bruce smiled but shifted back around to face his large computer, "You know what I mean Alfred."

"Yes I do sir, but I would like to remind you that the Batcave is connected to your home making it even easier for you to take chances to rest," Alfred hoped the suggesting would make it through Bruce's head, but like always he shrugged it off.

Bruce nodded but the focus had left him and gone to the scum of Gotham.

"Match Found," the computer voice stated and Alfred glanced up to see a name flashing brightly next to the picture.

EDWARD NIGMA

* * *

Croc let out a low growl behind him. The Riddler glanced back at the large black man. He wore a tux that seemed to be squeezing too tightly around his muscle while his alligator boots were hidden with the slacks. "I didn't sign up to be no errand boy, Riddler?" he growled out crutching his hands into fist.

He frowned. He needed Croc to be his muscles if any physical threat happened, but he did not like to be disobeyed. "I got you that disgraceful disease ridden woman last night. You can do whatever I tell you too. Riddle me this, what taste like chicken and swims in Florida?" he asked a simple riddle in an annoyed tone.

Croc's lips turned into a disgusted frown. "I don't know a possum," he muttered out.

The Riddler's grip on his cane tightened as the pain in his leg got worst. He hated stupid responses. "Just shut up and look tough," the Riddler ordered which received an agitated look from the Croc.

The Riddler finally reached his purple fist up to the door and knocked four times. He then placed it in his jacket pocket fiddling with the multiple lollipops as they waited…and waited…and waited in the dark dingy alley.

"Mr. Riddler sir…uh…is this the right place?" Shorty asked.

His lips contorted into more of a frown of frustration. Before anyone could move he pulled out his pistol and stuck it to the boy's temple. "I warn you time and time again not to ask stupid questions," he stated causally, "You can save yourself by answering a simple riddle. What has two hands and a face but doesn't speak?" he asked the boy whose face paled considerably.

He watched as the boy chewed his lip thinking over it then quietly said, "A…a clock?"

"Wrong. A good wife," the Riddler responded about to pull the trigger. The door opened.

"Welcome! Welcome! I…hope I'm not interrupting anything," a short pudgy man with a top hat commented from the doorway.

The Riddler pulled his gun away putting it back in his waistband. "Of course not Mr. Cobblepot. We were only entertaining ourselves with some brain teasers," he smiled at the man who barely reached five foot.

"People in your type of field call me the Penguin," the short man in a tuxedo stated holding out his little hands, "It's a pleasure to meet you Riddler."

"The same," he repeated as they shook hands then pulled away.

The Penguin seemed to look them all over. His long pointy nose showed who had his attention. It lingered on Croc a little longer then the rest of them. "Well Gentlemen, I will get you to our private section of the restaurant for our special buyers while I sort out the collection. Remember I run a new high-class restaurant. I do not want consumers fighting with one another within my grounds. I will not have the Batman shutting down my operation. Also remember you must go unnoticed by my other guest. Besides that I would like to welcome you to the Icebergs may our business relationship last long," the pudgy man said with a confident smile before turning into the kitchen revealing a black machine gun strapped to his back.

The Riddler found himself smirking. What calls itself a bird, but doesn't fly? What attempts to lives on land, but eats in the sea? What has no clothes, but still wears a tux? What's as small as kid, but packs a punch of a machine gun? Oswald Copplepot.

Gotham was heading for the worst.

* * *

reviews always loved 3 even if it is to tell me it's horrible


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: I first want to thank Claire, Phantom puppeteer, and KMN91 for reviewing! I was so happy to see that some people are actually liking the story. And Claire I'm glad my Riddler is crushable...I want him to have tons of fan girls...but hopefully this chapter doesn't scare them off. On another note, if anyone thinks this story should be rated M please message me so I can change it! Thanks and enjoy!

* * *

His green eyes followed the man with his arm lazily slung around the woman as they walked down the pathway through the park. The woman was batting her eyelashes and giggling in the nighttime sky while the man went on bragging about his unimportant accomplishments. The Riddler found himself frowning as he watched the man slowly push a strand of wavy blonde hair out of her face. He then lowered himself for a kiss.

The Riddler rolled his eye as he also rolled the lollipop in his mouth to the other cheek. He could not understand how people could be so completely oblivious to the obvious truths around them. He hoped that they purposefully overlooked them, but knew that was not the case. He was surrounded by dim minds who gladly followed any lie that could make them happy for the brief moment. Like Julia Child.

The Riddler's eyes stared at this woman in the dark maroon dress. Was Julia unaware that the man she currently was kissing was married? Even in the thin moonlight he could make out the tan line around his ring finger. He shouldn't have been surprised by her idiocy. She had already proven to him before that she was completely incompetent. He watched as the two traveled out of the park and across the street to a dimly lit apartment building. As expected the blonde gracefully pulled the man inside after unlocking it with her door key.

The Riddler shook his head from underneath his bowler hat. The unintelligent did not deserve happiness, yet it usually was the unintelligent who were happy. He thought it so unfair how the stupid managed to live out great lives at the expense of the intelligent. He wouldn't care if the stupid people messed up their own lives with their mistakes, but they _always_ messed up others.

A drunk driver crashing into an unexpected family.

A woman who forgets to wear protection then kills the child.

A man who mooches off the unemployment benefits instead of getting or creating a job.

A person who gets a loan on a house he can't afford and ends up setting the entire economy into a horrible recession.

Dimwitted small-minded beasts were the reasons for all the faults in society. Dimwitted small-minded beasts like Julia Child were the reason for his problems.

He let out a low hiss as his leg succumbed to a horrible agony. He tried to push it back slowly counting.

One lick of green apple.

Two licks of green apple.

Three licks of green apple.

Four licks of green apple.

His lips sucked the entire flavor swirling it in his mouth. His mind turned to the flavor and away from the counting. The tootsie pop people knew that no sane person could only continue to lick with such an amazing flavor touching their taste buds. How could that riddle truly ever be solved? He slightly admired them for it.

He glanced back at the entranceway to the apartment building. The cold air was starting to make his body stiff and he hoped the man would only be in there for a few minutes. He knew he wouldn't. He found the scowl returning to his face. Humans were so animalistic. Yes, he liked the touch of a woman. He imagined the light graze of fingertips along his face and the smell of sweet perfume. Yes, a woman touch could be quite enjoyable.

But

If he were to be honest, he couldn't stand women. He always accused the human race to being beneath his intellectual skill, but woman were even lower then the average of the human race. They became too concerned with their emotions and forgot logic all together. He also couldn't trust something that bled for seven days and didn't die*.

Out of his peripherals he saw a man adjusting his jacket as he came out of the apartment entrance. His facial features didn't seem too pleasant as he began speed walking away from the building. The Riddler's thin lips turned into a smirk. Good, he left. The idea of waiting thirty to sixty minutes in the cold did not set well with him. He used his cane to push his lean figure off the park bench. The homeless man who had been sleeping under the tree next to him jumped at the unexpected movement. The Riddler took no heed to it as he traveled outside the park gate. He took a quick glance at the road seeing no cars and then slowly limped across until he was standing at the glass door. He didn't even pause. He just opened up the door. As expected no one noticed the duct tape holding the lock in place. The simplest of break ins. It could have been easily stopped if people actually paid attention to something other then themselves.

He pushed through the grimy lobby full of tilted picture frames and half eaten rug. The elevator that came into view didn't look safe, but he had limited options. He pushed the up button. Slowly something creaked into place and opened. The Riddler's eyebrow arched as he studied the mechanical trap. The fifth floor would definitely be too much for him to walk. He quietly went into the elevator and pressed five. His eyes lingering on the emergency button in case anything were to happen. Even with all the creaks and moans the death trap managed to reach the fifth floor. The long doors opened to an ugly puke green carpet and flaking tan wallpaper. This apartment building wasn't in the Narrows, but obviously close enough to make it a dump. He limped down the old hallway stopping at the correct door. He knocked on the door causally then reached for his pistol.

"You came back to apologize?" a woman huffed in frustration as she undid the lock and opened up the door.

As soon as her surprised doe like brown eyes came into view he pointed the gun right at her temple. "I don't believe married men care about their mistresses, but what do you think?" he asked with a sideways smirk.

The woman seemed frozen in her silky undergarment. Her blonde hair framed her gaping mouth of terror. He took a few steps forward causing her to take a few frightful steps back. "Now Miss Childs, I don't want to hurt you, but if you are unable to cooperate I will," he stated calmly, "Especially since all I want to do is give a riddle."

Her brown eyes seemed to fall down to the question mark on his tee shirt then back up to him. "Why—why me?" she asked through a stutter.

His smirk grew at the comment. She didn't recognize him. They did only meet once after all. "A riddle that will be solved soon. Now turn around and don't move" he ordered with a bit more venom.

Her face was starting to scrunch together to form painful tears as her stiff form slowly turned away from him. "I…I th-thought the news said y-you didn't kill," she said through a whimper.

He shifted the gun in his fingers so he could pull out the syringe in his pocket. He took a step forward hearing her whimpers turn into complete sobs. "Silly girl, I don't kill," he said sweetly, "Riddles do." He then pushed the syringe into the back of her neck causing her let out a sharp squeal.

* * *

Croc sat in the driver seat of the van. He was bored…again. He made more money with the Riddler though then he ever did with Maroni, but still he missed the fight and the taste of blood in his mouth.

"Croc," Bobby asked from his side, "Do you really think this penguin guy's gadgets are gonna work?"

Croc looked at the small dirty blond hair boy. He was too innocent and curious for this type of work, but who was he to judge. "I donno kid. Ask question man," he suggested then went back to staring out the car window.

"No. No. I don't think that's a good idea," the boy said quickly.

Croc smirked. He did almost get killed over his last question. "They'll prolly work. Midget some sort of black-market dealer," he told the kid.

The kid nodded. He was about to say something else when his phone went off. The kid pulled out the do-hicky and looked at it. Croc never liked phones, but he understood em. "Okay we have to drop it off now at the cops then meet the boss back at hide out," the kid said.

Croc nodded, "How good of an arm do you got?"

"I used to play some baseball…uh why?" the kid asked.

Croc smirked, "Gonna send those pigs a flyin star."

* * *

He stepped in through the window. His cloak barely touched the edge of the frame as he jumped onto the floor. The room was dark and silent as the Batman slowly took in his surroundings. It was a small studio with a twin sized bed pushed up against one wall and a large encompassing wooden desk pushed up against the other. The kitchen seemed to be connected to the hallway next to entrance door. Six cardboard boxes sat piled up next to the desk that seemed haggard in traveled, but never unpacked. The floor was cluttered with papers and clothes that now had a layered of dust over all of them. The desk had even more piles of paper, but seemed organized in a particular fashion that was only understandable to the owner. The only thing in the room that wasn't a mess was the bed. It looked never slept in. The Batman took in the scene and carefully stepped over the desk that probably held the most information. If he were being honest with himself, he had secretly hoped that Edward was using his home as a hide out. But as he realistically known, there was no Edward…or Riddler in sight.

As he walked his foot stepped on something hard. He lifted his boot and glanced down at the glistening object in the moonlight. He slowly knelt down and picked up the shiny object. He brought it up to his mask seeing a first place metal. It looked like a running marathon metal. He gently placed it back and returned to his previous focus. He stood above the desk looking down for anything out of the ordinary. Most of the sheets were stock number analysis and big firm investments. From what the Batman had determined in his background analysis of Edward Nigma he had previously worked for the Lehman Brothers in Gotham District. His investments were never risky and were insured profit loans. He had been laid off when Lehman Brothers went out of business for bad loans to bad creditors. He was one of the unlucky officials who had never partaken in bad loans, but still suffered the consequences. The Wells Fargo he had robbed a week and a half ago had been the location of Lehman Brothers before they declared bankruptcy…while Gotham City Bank had been known for giving large amounts of faulty loans but was bailed out by the government with another firm.

The Batman shook his head. This man's goals were all focus towards revenge. It made him feel slightly comfortable to know he wasn't dealing with a man who had no motive like the Joker, but still he worried to what extent he would go to. The Batman turned his attention to the two picture frames on his desk. They were the only personal frames in the entire room. One was of a red head, who he assumed was Edward, with his hands up in the air as he crossed the finish line of a race. The other held a master diploma from Harvard University. The name Edward Nigma spelled out in thin Italic Script. The Batman looked over the small studio. If Edward had been working for Lehman Brothers he must have lived in a much more pristine and expensive apartment. Something red caught his attention. He turned to see the only bright color shirt in the pile. On the label it read Circuit City. Investor to Technical Salesman…Quite a change in a matter of months.

Batman felt a tinge of guilt for the criminal mastermind. He had read over the hospital file from Gotham General. He had been on his morning jog around the city when crossing a pedestrian walkway. A man who had been driving all night had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran right through the red light just barely missing Edward but slamming into the light post. The man driving died instantly. The light post quickly broke and flew to the ground landing on Edward. He had been lying on the ground after attempts to dodge the car. It landed on his left leg. Paramedics didn't get there for an hour. The machinery needed to lift the post another two hours. Parts of his muscle had died and if he wasn't put into surgery immediately he would lose his leg. He was brought to Gotham General and set up for surgery. In the middle of surgery the Joker threat against the hospital had occurred. They had to stitch him back up and move him. In the chaos of moving his file had been mishandled. Someone had lost it and his immediate surgery was forgotten for two days. When he finally got into the surgery room his option was to either lose his legs or cut out close to half of his chin muscle. He took the latter.

Batman remembered the limp the man had in the security camera footage. The file states that he is in immense amount of pain, but unwilling to take the surgical methods required to remove it. It was quite a sad story, but it gave Batman hope that maybe he could convince this man that his methods were wrong. Maybe he could find Edward Nigma under the Riddler.

_We have an emergency situation at the MCU station. Request Bomb Squad back up immediately!_ A gruff sounded police officer said into his ear piece.

The Batman flinched at the response. He waited to hear the other police reports. He needed to know what was going on.

_Back up is on the way! What's going on out there, Lieutenant? _Commissioner Gordon's voice sounded worried and straight to point.

_Commissioner, an object was thrown through our window. It's some sort of timer reading two hours. Attached to it was a piece of paper…with…_

_ With what?_

_ A question mark. _

_ Shit. Not again. Was there another riddle?_

_ Yes it says:_

**Recipe for Inefficiency**

**_ Take one incompetent woman add menial tasks and multiple clients. Take out organization skills. Add a pinch of personal love drama and distraction. Put in oven and bake for two hours, but be careful…if you don't take it out at the right time the whole masterpiece could explode. _**

**_ Riddle me this, Where do women belong?_**

It was silent on both ends until Gordon ordered to the unit. _No one is aloud to touch it until the Bomb Squad and I get there understood._

_ Yes, Commissioner._

Batman began to puzzle over the riddle. This man's methods were becoming easy to read and the answers were obviously all in the riddle. They had two hours to figure out what it was, and Batman had a strong suspicion that it was more then a bomb in MCU. His eye reflected off the running metal on the ground again. Running was this man's life and it was taken away from him. This wasn't about the MCU this was about revenge. Batman brought his finger to his ear pressing his earpiece. He spoke in a deep gruff voice, "Alfred, please compare all cookbook authors with hospital employees from Gotham General."

"Will do sir," Alfred voice responded.

_SHIT! Commissioner! The timer just cut in half! _

_ Get everyone out of there now! _

Batman flinched…he needed to hurry if he was going to stop this.

* * *

Julia Child felt a rough pounding headache at every corner of her brain. It felt like a hangover as her hand quickly lifted to soothe her temple. What had she been doing the night before?

Memories of a nice fancy dinner flooded her mind making her smile. Adam had taken her out on their first real date. He had been so sweet and complimented on her dress that cost her a whole month salary to buy. It had been worth it though. The way he looked at her was definitely not a way he looked at his tired wife who didn't appreciate him. Julia appreciated him. She appreciated everything about him, and she would support him in every decision he made for the rest of his life because she loved him. He was the thing that made her love work again. He reminded her that even her administrative paper filing had an effect on the patients. She helped people in the same way he helped people. She had always wanted to help people. She just couldn't afford to go to medical school. She wanted to be a strong doctor like Adam, but the farthest she could get in the medical field was sectary work. Still she helped people. And the long depression she felt for months was disappearing.

Her sister, who was also her best friend, had even commented on her looking brighter these days. She wanted to tell her sister so badly what had made her happy, but of course she couldn't…yet. Once Adam divorced his horrible wife and they got married she could tell the world. She could stand on the tallest building of Gotham and shout to the sky how she was marrying the love of her life. Julia smiled through the pain of a hangover. She must have had too much wine last night. She shifted in her bed to feel hard cold flatness against her skin. Her eyes shot opened.

She wasn't in her bed. She glanced around the darkness as her eyes adjusted. She let out a sigh of relief as her living room came into view. Why was she sleeping on the floor? Her neck was in a kink probably from sleeping on this rough surface. Her hand reached out to touch while she stretched it to the side. She jumped when she felt metal. What the hell? She sat up touching both her hands to her neck feeling a metal band wrapped around it. Her brows furrowed together as her grip tightened at it. She tried to pull.

"Miss Childs that is not the smartest idea. We wouldn't want you to fail the riddle before even trying now," an unfamiliar voice spoke and her body stiffened in response.

A string of memories filled her mind. Adam yelling at her telling her to get rid of it. Her protesting and screaming at him to get rid of his wife. Him storming off and out of the room. Her screaming at him in the hallway then slamming the door. The knocking on the door and her sudden relief that he returned. Her opening the door to a…gun.

A Question mark.

The Riddler had come to her door and stuck this thing around her neck, but why? Why did he do this to her? She turned to the noise to see a blinding light from the computer screen. She squinted for a moment before the light became apparent. Her webcam was on, and on the screen sat a live streaming video of a man in a bowler hat. Seeing the unsettling smirk on his face and the way his eyes lingered on her from underneath his glasses made her squirm and her voice go weak.

"Wh-what do you want?" she asked in a high fearful voice she was ashamed of having. She always thought if she were to be mug or be in a horrible situation like this she would be brave. She wouldn't let the criminal push her around, but she couldn't find that courage. It had disappeared within her.

"Oh," he said with wider eyes as if just realizing something, "Introductions are in order aren't they? My name is the Riddler," he stated then looked at her patiently.

Was he playing with her? Was this all some joker? She wasn't sure, but tears were threatening on the edge of her eyes. He then continued, "Speechless I see. Well luckily I already know your name Julia Childs."

She physically lowered herself at the sound of her name. This couldn't be real. She was only with Adam a few hours ago…was it hours ago?

"You see your incompetence has managed to severely hurt others while you go around unaffected in your life. Now as the Riddler, I find that disgraceful. We cannot have stupid people running a muck ruining society. I am here to change Gotham after all," he said with a sweet smile.

Her breathing had become heavy as his words continued. She felt the tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to get a hold of herself. Was he saying he was going to kill her for being…stupid? When was she stupid? She hadn't gone to college, but she definitely wasn't stupid. "I…I'm not stupid," she said through her choke breathing.

"I…I…I beg to differ," he said mockingly to her, "But luckily you have a chance to prove yourself. It would be unfair of me not to give you a second chance."

She sucked in a deep breath with an overall relief. She wouldn't die. She wouldn't. She had…a baby. She glanced down at her stomach then back at this sick very sick man.

"It's simple really. All you have to do is answer a riddle?" he said with that grin.

"I can do that," she said fast jumping at the opportunity.

"Okay then come over to the computer," he said to her in a voice that reminded her of someone talking to a dog.

She felt so degraded, but she quickly pushed herself off her floor and walked over to her computer. She sat at her desk chair and stared at the creepy man in the video. Her hand was shaking nervously at her side waiting.

A smug expression showed up on the orange haired man's face. "Now the reason you are in this puzzle in the first place was because of a lack of memory. So to regain your life all you have to do is prove that your memory is up to par. All you have to do is match all the cards within the time. If you do you walk out of here with your second chance. If you fail that little ring around your neck will explode. Simple?"

Her hand had started shaking even more as the man spoke. Her lip quivered as she thought of her sister. She wanted to tell her sister everything. She didn't want any more secrets from her. But she could die….No! She just had to focus. She nodded her head in agreement.

The man smug smirk only widened as he said, "Good. You have five minutes to memorize all the cards."

The video disappeared, and her screen was filled with row after row of cards. There were so many cards.

"Fifty pairs dear in two hours," his voice responded through the speakers.

So many, but she had long time. She took a deep calming breath and began remembering the placement of each card. All the cards were question mark, but some were different sizes or different colors. It was almost dizzying to look at. Focus Julie Focus, she thought as her eyes took in the different matches. She started with matching the one question mark colored ones…then moved on to the small question marks then to the two question marks. Her eyes didn't blink as she quickly tried to absorb every place. Then all the cards turned around revealing their dark green back. Fifty pair in…she glanced at the time one hour and fifty-five minutes. She could do it. She could. She clicked on one of the card in the top row and then another in the middle. They turned around revealing a match then vanished. She smiled. Her breathing was finally slowly. She clicked another card in the corner then another in the second to last row. Both turned around revealing a match and vanished. It continued like this until she had twelve pairs and still at 1:40 minutes. She was debating between two cards. She couldn't remember exactly which one it was. She didn't want to guess because she wasn't sure if it was part of the rules. Think Julie! You have to remember! The right one? She clicked it and the two cards turned around revealing very different symbols. Her eyes widened in fear thinking the thing would explode now, but the cards just turned back around. She let out a brief of relief then clicked the card on the right with the pair. As expected that was the correct pair, and they vanished. She smiled then glanced at the time.

"What?" she shouted staring at a time that read 49 minutes.

"Oh sorry I forgot to tell you…every time you make a mistake the time cuts in half," the man stated in a gleeful voice that even ended on a girlish giggle.

The mouse on the screen started shaking as her hand did. Her mouth scrunched up into a painful frown. She didn't want to die. She really didn't want to die. A tear slide down her face and she ignored it. She had thirteen pairs. She just needed to keep going. Hesitantly she clicked on two more cards. Pair. She clicked on two more. Pair. Okay she was doing fine…she thought. She clicked on two more.

No match.

22 minutes.

Damn it. Her head fell down as more tears escaped her eyes. She was going to die. She was going to die without ever having a family of her own. She was going to die without accomplishing her dream. She was going to die alone in her apartment. Get a hold of yourself, she thought. She ripped her eyes back to the computer screen. She took a settling gulp. She then tried again with another card. Pair. She went again. Another pair. Again. Another pair.

She then stared at the screen. Her hand shaking. She had eighteen pairs, but she didn't remember exactly where all the other pairs were. She had an idea where a few might be, but she wasn't certain. What if she was wrong? 18 minutes. It would be cut in half. There was no way she could get thirty pairs in half of that time. She didn't even know if she could get them now. She hesitantly clicked on two more cards. Pair.

She let out another breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She tried for next guess. Please…please…she clicked on the two. No match.

8 minutes.

Her face was submerged with tears. She had a hard timing seeing through the liquid glossiness now in her eyes. The sound of her whimpering hit her ears, but she was loosing this game. She couldn't win. Her life was over. Why couldn't someone save her? Why couldn't Adam just pull her into a hug and never let go? "I…I can't….can't do this. Please! Please! I'm sorry for being stupid! I'm sorry! I'll go to school! I'll go to the library right now! Please! I have a sister! I have a future family!" she begged the man.

The man only let out that girlish giggle that made a shiver traveling up her spine. "A future family with a married man? If you can't solve this simple riddle I doubt you could solve that one. Besides dear…I'm no longer in control. You are. You control whether you're smart enough to live," he said calmly to her.

Her whimpers became louder. She had to focus. She had too. Stop crying. She looked back at the screen and all the cards. She had to remember. Her hand shakily led the mouse over one of the cards she remember to have a two small purple question marks on it. She then led it to one in the bottom row. Her mouse stayed on top of it. She clicked it.

…

Match.

Yes! Please this has to continue. She looked at the time five minutes. She went to another card on the screen. She clicked it with scared eyes then moved to another. It has to be another pair. She clicked it.

…

No Match.

2.2 minutes.

Her hand left the mouse and covered her wet cheeks. She wept. It was over. There was no way she could get all those pairs. She was going to die.

"Giving up I see. Expected," the mocking voice spoke to her.

"Why? Why did you choose me to do this too?" she said through her choking sobs.

The man didn't answer at first, but eventually came the cool replied, "It's only a riddle dear. It's not my fault you couldn't solve it."

Julie didn't look at the clock. She knew it was coming soon. "I love you Katie. I love you Adam," she whispered quietly through the tears.

* * *

Batman raced in his tumbler through Gotham night streets to the outskirts of the Narrows. The time kept cutting in half, but he was almost to this girl's home. Julia Child. The Riddler had to be referring to her in the riddle. She was the only hospital staff who had worked at Gotham General and had the same name as a chef. She had to be at her apartment.

_Where do women belong?_

In the home.

Sexist pig, the Batman thought but it made the riddle easier solve.

Batman didn't know what he was planning, but once the timer went out he knew something bad was going to happen to that girl. He had to save her. When he was outside her apartment building he jumped out of the building.

_There's only a minute left everyone take cover! _Gordon's voice roared in his ear.

Batman quickly pulled out his grappling hook gun and shot it at the fifth floor seventh window down. He heard the glass shatter and then felt the line tighten. He was then ripped into the air flying towards the window. He jumped in to see a shock blonde hair girl with beautiful brown eyes. Her face lightened for a moment before a loud beeping began around her neck. "Get it…

She never completed the sentence because the machine let off a small explosion around her neck shooting blood and skin everywhere. Batman watched in horror as the beautiful blond girl head rolled off her body and landed with a thud on the ground. The body then slumped over and landed on the desk.

He had failed.

A girlish giggle sounded and Batman's hand turned into a fist. He turned a cold dark glare at the sound that came from the computer screen pushed back against the wall. Besides for the crack down the middle, Batman could see the Riddler's smug face grinning as he undid a lollipop.

Adam never did go to Julia Child funeral.

* * *

_a/n: so in the next chapter we get are first batman and riddler meeting! im sure there are a lot of question like 'i thought the reason the riddler started all this is to figure out who batman is not for revenge. had that changed?' or the 'why did he kill this woman in particular?' both wil be explained in the next chapter! thanks again to the few who are reading._

_*this sentence is not mine, it's actually a quote from the South Park movie. Mr. Garrison says it and when i was writing this the line reappeared and i thought it fit too well. But i did not come up with it. Also I do not own Batman or any characters from Batman_


	6. Chapter 6

_a/n: Thanks again for the reviews! I hope the Riddler's uh... evil tendencies didn't scare anyone off lol. And yeah I know I changed the story title again...but I finally like it! So this chapter was very difficult to write. There are somethings that bother me about it. *shrug* anyways I have this entire story now planned out in my head and there are only seven chapters left! Since I have a problem with...not finishing things. I am giving myself a deadline. I will update every monday for the next seven weeks. Unfortunately that means there weren't be anymore of these daily or every other day updates, but it does mean i will actually finish this! woot. so back to the story. enjoy!_

* * *

"I apologize Batman, but I believe your late," the man leaned into the camera showing Batman his devious dark green eyes.

Frustration overcame the Batman. The blood from the unattached head leaked onto the floor, and the girl's big brown eyes looked up at him with disgust. "Edward," he growled in his throaty voice,

The man smirked at the sound of his name. His eyebrow arched under his bowler cap as he leaned back into the chair he was sitting in. He scratched his chin as he chewed over his thoughts. "I sorely underestimated you Batman," he said as he rolled the lollipop into one of his cheeks, "But I must inform you, Edward Nigma is dead and the Riddler is here now."

Batman turned to the screen. He wanted so much to grab this man by his flimsy white tee shirt and slam him against the wall. "What you're doing is wrong Edward! You killed an innocent girl!" he growled.

Again that short girlish giggle escaped his smirking lips. "Innocent? Oh I sorely disagree. Just because you are naïve to the crimes you commit does not mean you did not commit them," he chided.

"She misplaced your record in all the chaos. You cannot call that a crime," he argued.

The man snorted. His hands rested on his cane. "You did do your research, but like I said Edward Nigma is dead. She took part in his murder by her 'little' mistake. I must remind you though Batman, I didn't kill her. I only gave her a riddle she wasn't smart enough to solve," he said causally. He rerolled his lollipop to his other cheek as he waved his hand in the air uncaringly.

"You set her in a death trap! You murdered her. Put your revenge aside Edward. You can get help," Batman tried to reason with the psycho.

He watched as his eyes showed confusion behind his black-framed glasses. "Revenge? This isn't about revenge Batman," he said with a smirk.

Batman glanced at the lump over body leaning against the desk. Droplets of blood streaked down staining the white skin in some horrific image. He glared back at the man who didn't even seem to notice. "You can't tell me this isn't about revenge when I stand in a room with a mutilated body," he snapped angrily.

He waved his index finger at the camera. "Tsk. Tsk. You are looking at the obvious reasoning. You have to look deeper Batman. Like I said in my welcome video I'm after the biggest riddle."

Batman let out a low growl and took a step closer to the camera. He wouldn't let him reveal the truth of Harvey Dent. He couldn't.

"Who is the Batman?" Edward said with a satisfying grin as he balanced an elbow on the armrest of the chair.

Batman paused. He was after his identity. "This girl has nothing to do with me," he brought upon logic.

"Aw but for me to understand the Batman I must become part of the Batman's world. I must find reason within insanity. I must relate myself to you and then crawl my way up to the larger riddle. And then after watching you struggle with riddle after riddle after riddle I will understand the interworking of the Batman's brains. I will understand who the Batman is! Don't you see it's all an observation," he said with a knowing smile.

The Batman studied his eyes behind those glasses. He wanted to try to find Edward Nigma somewhere in that mess, but all he saw was a raving mad man, The Riddler. "Riddler, I will stop you from hurting Gotham," he growled making that promise.

The Riddler plucked his lollipop out of his lips as he leaned into the camera. He seemed to be studying him. It bothered him after the rant he just heard. He would not allow this man to kill just to observe his actions. "It's interesting how you wear two mask," he said knowingly, "You do know Harvey Dent is alive."

Batman faltered. His eyes widening for a quick second as that information seeped in. He then pushed it away just as fast. "You're lying. I watched him die," he said in his throaty voice.

The Riddler's mouth turned into that vile smirk. "So the one mask can break…quite interesting," he said pushing back into his chair, "I'm not lying though. You're not the only one who has done their research. Gordon and the Mayor have him locked up in Arkham trying to rehabilitate him."

"You're lying. There would be no reason for you to tell me this, " he hissed feeling his temper rising.

"It is all observation, dear Bats," he said sweetly, "Riddle me this, what will the dark knight do when only half the white knight returns?" the Riddler asked him with that confident smirk. Then the screen went blank and a green question mark popped up.

Batman stood alone in the room feeling the shame and anger come over him just like that day when Rach…he pushed it away. He had failed, and if he kept failing there was no reason for him being there. Once again he felt guilt over the outcome of another villain. Did Batman create villains more then he stopped them? Before he took up the task of help Gotham, there were no criminals in mask. Had he caused all this? The brown eyes judged him. He wanted to flee out of the window immediately, but he had to find something in this apartment that would give him some sort of clue to the Riddler's hide out. So with a tired sigh he searched.

* * *

The Riddler frowned as he stared at his blank computer screen. He had deeply underestimated the Batman. He had determined his background in a week. He hadn't left any particular clues…besides not wearing a mask. But what respectable man would hide his greatness from the world with a mask. Unlike the Batman he was not ashamed of himself. However, the Batman knowledge would make it more difficult to go ahead with his plans. Should he skip the next riddle and move on to the one after? No, he couldn't do that. Solving a riddle had steps. You couldn't just jump from point A to point Z. You had to take the appropriate steps. He would just have to make the next riddle harder then the last, and Harvey Dent should take up some of his attention. His thin lips turned into a smirk.

Batman was a challenging one.

"Uh Mr. Riddler," the boy voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned his head to the small blond at the door. He was currently in a tiny room with a camera. The only color was the green wall behind him.

He lifted an eyebrow to say what-is-it. The boy eyes fell to the floor. "Um…well…Mr. Penguin's men were here delivering the stuff…and…um," the boy mumbled softly.

The pain in his leg started up again. Maybe, he should just kill this boy. "A riddle cannot be solved if never given," he stated causally waving his hand to say get-on-with-it.

"Crockilledtwoofhismen," the boy said in a rush.

The Riddler's eyebrows furrowed together under his bowler hat. He then pushed himself out of the seat with his cane. He could handle the Batman. He could handle Gotham Police Department. But he really would prefer not get in a gang war with the flightless bird. Especially after all the weapons he had seen underneath his fancy restaurant. Some of the weapons were so technologically advance he couldn't understand exactly how they worked. If those weapons were turned on him, his plans for Batman and Gotham would be lost. Yet somehow the idiotic buffoon had no comprehension of any of that. The short blond quickly opened the door for him, and the Riddler limped down the hallway to the main area of the warehouse.

"You're a monsters! A monster!" some man screamed in horror. The hallway opened up to a large room. A cowardly man was pressed up against the wall while Croc leaned on one of the big wooden boxes that held a firework machine. He was chewing on something as blood dripped from his face and onto his white tank.

The Riddler stopped in the entrance. His face visually turned to disgust as he realized the thing was chewing on was a person's arm. At this angle Killer Croc looked like a real crocodile. His black face tattoo was haunting. The Riddler tapped his cane on the floor to get his attention. The big towering black man stopped chewing and glanced over at the noise. "Croc, care to explain how you just got me into quite a puzzle?" he said with a glare from under his glasses.

Croc dropped the arm next to the other shredded parts of a body. He shrugged as he folded his arms over his chest. "Those city folks came in here yakin and bossin. Just explainin' they ain't in charge," he said with that Mississippi drawl.

"It's a monster…how can you keep a monster?" the man kept whimpering.

Bang.

Croc flinched at the sound of a shot. The cowardly man collapsed onto himself and made thud on the floor. The Riddler rubbed the barrel of the gun against his hat. "Silence makes it so much easier to think," he mumbled to himself.

Croc and Shorty didn't say anything and the large warehouse really was silent. Finally the man in green responded, "Well we have to get an apology gift now don't we. Luckily I believe our next contestant has exactly what we are looking for," he paused for a moment and kept his eyes on Croc, "What happens to the predator when he only eats?" He waited about ten long seconds for a response he knew would never come, "He gets fat and lazy and dies by the prey's hand. Remember that if you plan to keep working for me. If you aren't willing to work under my rules then you can leave."

He held his glare with Croc for a few more moments. "If you're going to stay move the box," he snapped then turned around to the hallway.

"Why do I pay people if they do not work? A good riddle. A very good riddle indeed," he mumbled in annoyance as the pain returned to his leg.

* * *

Gordon walked through his kitchen to the refrigerator. He opened it up with a tired huff to pull out dinner that had been sealed in plastic wrap. He slowly went over to the microwave and placed in his cold food. The Riddler had tricked them…again. They still weren't even certain what the timer as referring too. Had it been all a trick to put the police in a panic.

A book full of word games sat on the wooden table. He bought it after the last riddle thinking the practice would help him…

He closed his eyes and warily pinched the bridge of his nose. What was this man after? He hadn't been in the criminal database. They didn't even have his name! A small quiet noise from outside caught his ear. His hand fell to his side as he walked over to the window. Up in the shadows hidden under the stairs sat Batman.

"It was a dud. The timer hit zero and the object just sat there," he said in a tired voice.

"He never planned to blow up MCU," the Batman's scratchy voice responded, "He killed someone tonight. Her name was Julia Child. She handled low administrative work at Gotham General before its destruction."

Frustration overcame Gordon's features. Julia Child…the name of the famous chef. It almost seemed too obvious. "But why would he kill this random woman?" he asked.

"His name is Edward Nigma. He is out for revenge. The woman had lost his file during the Joker incident and it prevented surgery," he said letting the truth invade his ears. The Batman, a single lone man, had managed to determine this Riddler's identity. His police department had to work harder. They couldn't continue to put so much pressure on the Batman. It was their job too, to save people.

"I wasn't able to save her in time," the Batman muttered.

He heard guilt in his voice and it felt unsettling to Gordon. This man truly was a hero. Even with the city against him he still felt an undying need to protect. "It's not your fault. We should have seen through his game in the first place," Gordon assured, "But if we know what he is after we can prevent him from getting it. There was something odd though about the timer."

The Batman silently waited for him to continue. "They're currently doing an analysis on the object, but it appears that all the parts are from out of the country. There also was a small cursive P carved into the side," he informed him.

The Batman nodded then pulled something out of his side, "This was part of the machine used to kill Julia Child. The same P is carved into it as well."

"It could be a new group of weapon smugglers," Gordon suggested.

"Yes it looks like it," the Batman agreed, "If you don't mind I'm going to do my own test on this."

Gordon nodded, and the microwave beeped. He glanced back to it then back out the window. He had expected the Batman to be gone like he usually did, but he lingered there.

"Gordon," the Batman spoke, "Is Harvey Dent alive?"

Gordon felt surprised for only a few seconds. He knew the Batman would find out eventually. Only Mayor Garcia, himself, and a three guards that he personally chosen knew the true identity of the man behind the walls. He barely had a heartbeat after the fall, and Gordon couldn't let him die. Garcia had thought death would be easier for Gotham, but Gordon couldn't agree to that. They would rehabilitate him and send him somewhere else to start over a new. At least that was what Gordon wanted to happen. Harvey showed little sign of wanting help. He then nodded again, "Yes, but it's not him anymore. He hasn't spoken since he woke up. He only flips that coin…"

The Batman listened carefully before nodding himself. The microwave beeped again and this time when he turned around the Batman had vanished into the night.

* * *

The Joker looked down at the sleeping brunette. His long lanky arms were thrown about in a mess as a light snoring sound escaped his mouth. His face seemed pinched together like the dream had brought on a bad memory. The Joker found his lips stretching into a huge grin. He wanted to laugh at this supposed Master of Fear. He gently touched the tip of his nose with his finger and quickly pulled away as the Scarecrows long hand came to brush it away. He even made a noise similar to a horse trying to get off the flies. Again the urge the laugh was threatening, but he held it back. Where was that marker?

He shifted his hand into his sleeve and pulled out a permanent black marker Harley-girl had left on her desk. She really was too relaxed around him. He undid the cap then bent down over the sleeping Scarecrow. He slowly brought the marker to the edge of his lip then drew an up diagonal line. He did the same to the other side. He grinned. Finally Scaredy-Cat was smiling! He slipped the marker back in his sleeve before jumping onto of the sleeping man.

He shook his shoulders roughly as he shouted in a harsh whisper, "Wake up! Wake up! Johnny-boy!"

The man eyes widened in shock as his body jerked and yanked underneath him. The Joker held him completely still waiting for the initial shock to go away. And oh did it…the man's ice blue eyes traveled from confusion to anger in a matter of seconds.

"JOKER! GET OUT OF MY BED!" he shouted loudly and began squirming.

Luckily, the Scarecrow's scrawny form compared nothing to his weight (And that was saying something since the horrible Arkham food had really thinned him out). He cracked a grin, "I just got out of high security and wanted to say…." he brought his face very close to the Scarecrow's. "Hi," he whispered. He then laughed as the Scarecrows jerky movements became more drastic and continued, "Dr. Quin says I should try to make friends," he paused to slowly lick his lips, "She says it will ah- help me with getting some empathy. I'm only taking her advice. We all want to get SANE after all!"

"Dr. Quinzel is a horrible excuse for a doctor. She should be sent back to the hospital to deal with the psych problems of small children," the Scarecrow growled still trying to free his arms.

"Aw that's not very nice. I think you're just upset because ah- she's gonna take the job you were fired from. Jealousy's not flattering, Scaredy-Cat," he said with a stretched teasing smile as he only continued to shot him a glare.

His body finally stopped moving as he coldly stated, "What is it you want, Joker?"

"I want a lotta things. You gotta be a bit more specific," he said pushing his tongue against his cheek.

The frustration was evident on the frail features of the man. "What is it," he began slower as if he were talking to a kindergartener, "you want from me that would require you to break into my room IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GODDAMN NIGHT!" he shouted the last part.

"Shhh Johnny boy, you would think you almost wanted them to ah- catch me," he said glancing at the door quickly.

"If my dignity wouldn't be lost, I would scream for help right now," he stated coldly.

The Joker frowned in annoyance. Here he was coming to offer the Scarecrow a great opportunity and he spat in his face. The Joker was beginning to believe he was most unappreciated man in the world. He tried to save Batman from his self-righteous caging morals. He tried to save Gotham from their society norms. And what does he get…a scar on his cheek and a room in Arkham. However, he did like the scars on his cheek. It reminded him that the Batman was human enough to use violence. His focus turned to the man underneath. "I came hear to make a deal, but if you don't want to hear it I'll,'" he licked his lips slowly as he looked around the white walled room, "let you waste away in here."

The Scarecrow gave him a suspicious look before speaking slowly, "What's the deal?"

"Oh? Now you want to hear it?" the Joker's brown eyes taunted him.

"Tell me or get out. I'm not in the mood for games," he hissed.

"Gezz," he rolled his eyes dramatically, "Short temper."

Crane didn't speak he just continued to glare. The Joker then bent his head down so his mouth was next to the man's ear. He felt the man stiffen at the close contact, which only made his grin widen. "I can get you out of here if…" he let the sentence drop off to let the Scarecrow's mind wander with it.

"If what?" he asked in a whispered that matched his own.

Oh how the Joker loved creating a feeling in a room with simple words. He could make a situation tense, light hearted, or just plain chaotic. It all depended on him. He felt the tension release as he said in a high pitchy voice, "If I get one tiny whiny itsy bit of personal toxin." He then lifted his head away giving a please-with-sugar-on-top look. He didn't need the Scarecrow to agree because no matter what he decided he would force him to make it, but…it would be easier if the Scarecrow wanted to do it. He wouldn't have to use threats and all that boring stuff.

"What for?" the man asked but there was a knowing look in his eyes.

"Does it ah' matter?" he asked with a grin.

Crane's blue eyes studied him for a moment. "No, I don't care. Deal," he agreed.

The Joker's already big grin grew, "Good in three days we leave."

"Three days?"

The Joker had already hopped off of him and had headed to the exit. "Nighty night Scaredy Cat! Don't let the bed bugs bite," he said swiftly disappearing behind the heavy metal door.

Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest in a pout. "You're not even funny," he mumbled as he rolled back into his bed trying to get to sleep.

* * *

Harley sat in her office reading over the transcript from their last session. He was still lying and flirting as defense tactics, but she was getting more of his philosophy and understanding. He was also showing immense amount of progress. He only had one incident and she was sure Dr….Crane had caused that. If it were up to her the Joker would never be in the same room as that man. He purposely made people question their sanity. But the Joker had recently showed some empathic tendencies. He constantly asked about her problems, and tried to help in 'his' way. He was showing feeling to another human being besides himself…and Batman. He was on the steps back to recovery. She smiled to herself.

"_Breaking News here at GCN! The Riddler has struck again, but this time on a poor defenseless woman named Julia Childs,"_ the new casters voice spoke out to the citizens.

Her eyes left the transcript and went to the small television set on her desk. It was sad how even though she would heal one patient another would come to take his place. "_The Police, however, have determined this man's identity," _the news caster spoke and Harley looked closer at the screen. She had been curious like all Gothamites about who the man behind the riddles really was. A picture of a man wearing a suit and glasses with short cut orange red hair stared back at her. "_His name is Edward Nigma. He is extremely dangerous, and if anyone see this man they are suggested to get away and call the authorities immediately."_

Harley gasped. Her delicate hand covered her mouth in horror. Edward Nigma? Her mind flashed over her few sessions with the cynical man. She had been so excited to work with her favorite author, and felt so guilty that the man had such horrendous luck.

"You're great at making and solving riddles. You should distract yourself with them," her own words replayed in her head.

She didn't know whether she should feel honored that he was taking her words to heart…or disgusted.

The twisted swirling feeling in her stomach told her the latter. She pulled out the trash bin under her desk and lost the contents of her lunch. She wiped her mouth with one hand and gripped the edge of her desk for support. The news caster began to describe the way Miss. Childs had died. The sick game that was played…

It was all her fault!


	7. Chapter 7

I'm so sorry! I failed at my deadline...already! blah. anyways enjoy ^^

* * *

Bobby's hand nervously twitched near his gun hidden under his leather jacket. He never used to be this jumpy, but ever since he started working for the Riddler his hand never stopped shaking. He had to take three breaths before shooting so he could a good aim. If Tom were alive he would have laughed, but Tom was dead…same with Johnny B and Kyle. The man who had a preference for green and lollipops killed them all. Bobby looked up from under his shaggy blonde bangs to Killer Croc. Before this shift of work, he had never said a word to the man. He had been too scared that he would tear his body apart like he did all his other victims, but now Croc had become his only friend…in a way.

"Croc," he began to the large man, "I don't understand why he keep sendin these clues." He looked at the perfectly made crossword in his hands as Croc sped their van through the city.

"Man's a loon. Minds me of those pig wrestlers," he said pulling the van into the alley next to near their destination. The alley was dark with the sun just starting to set. Most businesses were just closing up shop. Batman usually didn't make appearances around this hour, so it should be an easy job.

"Pig wrestler?" Bobby asked confused as he opened up his door. Croc turned off the engine pulling out the key. Bobby noticed the van literally shake as Croc shuffled himself out of it. Bobby walked around the car to the towering man who slammed the door shut.

"The Q-man got a point Bobbeh you ask a lotta questions," he responded before walking to the entrance of the alley to the sidewalk.

Bobby hurried to catch up with Croc. He didn't understand why his question bothered people…but maybe he should just keep his mouth shut. His life had been threatened on more then one occasion just because of an innocent question. Croc stopped at the sidewalk looking to make sure there were no coppers in sight. They then both stepped out on to the very pristine clean sidewalk with only a few people in suits around. Being in the financial district always made him uncomfortable.

A few of the suits looked at them curiously before hurrying away. Even a well-built size man knew they wouldn't be able to take on Croc. "Where didya say this place was Bobbeh?" Croc asked looking both left and right.

"This way," Bobby smiled at being useful taking a right turn down the sidewalk. They walked two blocks down to a tall black skyscraper that had Gotham Times written in silver script across the entrance of the door. Just as they were stepping up the stairs to the entrance the glass door swung opened. A red head was pushed outside and landed right into Bobby.

Bobby flinched immediately as his comfort levels dwindled. "Uh…um…uh…sorry," he mumbled out quickly. He wished he weren't so stupid around girls. The girl didn't even look up at him though. She pushed herself off his chest giving him a quick look at her light green eyes and tan soft facial features before scowling and turning around.

"JOE! You have to tell the world what they're doing! You have to stop them from destroying Gotham's last substance of land over houses! That's a story! And we need people on our side!" the red head with long straight hair swung her fist in the air at the big overweight man in suspenders.

"Pam, were not some college hippy newspaper. Now I like your father and all, but I'm not printing something that won't give me business. For the last time stop coming here with your ridiculous stories. If you want to protest go hand out flyers like the rest of the people," he growled.

The woman's hand turned into a fist at her side, but her voice sounded calm and sweet almost, "I understand Joe. I just thought an influential man like yourself could help me, but it looks like I am all alone." Bobby was very confused.

"Pam, don't be like that," he said to the girl who turned around revealing a strange very low cut hemp sweatshirt.

"I'm going to kill these leeches burying them in mother earth's warm embrace," she said just as sweetly but in a whisper that Bobby barely caught. As the woman passed him Bobby jumped to the side. She sounded friendly, but he recognized killer rage when he saw it.

The man in suspenders let out a sigh finally turning to them. "We're closing. I'm sorry. If you have a tip for a story just call it in," he said about to shut the door.

"Pudgy man, that not gonna happen. Big man want us to deliver somethin'" Croc said taking a threatening step towards the man in suspenders.

The suspender guy's face went pale for a moment as he took in the size of Croc before he quickly shook his head. "Sorry. Can't," he said quickly shutting the door, but Croc caught it, ripping it open with ease.

"My Momma always taught me some manners," Croc said as he ducked under the doorway into the entrance of the large newspaper building.

Bobby quickly followed behind seeing the suspender man nervously backing away. "What is it that requires my assistance now?" he asked sharply as he glanced around for help from the few others in the entryway. A woman stopped in mid stride to study the situation. Once she saw the panic in the man's eyes she quickly reached for her phone.

"Now I wouldn't be doing that Miss. Bobbeh," Croc said to him so he pulled out his gun. It was shaking, but the target was large enough that he wouldn't miss. The woman screamed dropping her phone to the ground. Two security guards who were sitting near the elevators pulled their guns out.

"Put your weapons down!" they shouted at them. Bobby noticed the muscles under Croc's skin shake in some sick anticipation before the big man reached out and grabbed the pudgy one.

"My Momma used to make the best meals too, but since momma not here I'll eat some junk," he said holding the pudgy man still. "I'm quite hungeray," he stated and Bobby could imagine the smile he probably was given.

"Please don't! You wouldn't! No! That's….sick! Please!" the man begged as he squirmed in the vice grip.

"What is it you want?" one of the security guards ask.

Croc didn't respond, and the room went awkwardly silent besides the whimpering girl and pleading man. His big head finally turned to him, "What are we doin here, Bobbeh?"

Oh…Bobby had forgotten that the Riddler decided not share his next plan with Croc after his little mishap. Oh gezz…that meant Bobby would have to explain…he didn't explain things too well. "Uh," he started off taking a step so he could look at the guards then quickly glanced at the girl then at his feet, "Um, well we just need this printed in the paper, you see?" He pulled out the crossword puzzle from his pocket.

"Fine! Anything! I'm the editor. I can easily put it in!" the man in Croc's grip shouted.

"Oh that was easy," Bobby smiled taking a few careful steps to Croc and holding out the crossword in front of the man. Joe glared at it before ripping it out of his hands. Bobby was forgetting something though.

He remembered the Riddler shuffling his hair and saying something like, "Silly boy. You kill them." But there was something before that…

"Have you ever wondered why the orphanages are so full?" the Riddler asked with a creepy smile as his green eyes glanced out the window. He sat in a black leather office chair. His bowler hat was left on the unsteady table he used as a desk. His orange hair formed a perfect hat head with the top being straight and the bottom sticking out. He looked odd, but he was still frightening.

Bobby rubbed his forearm while his eyes stayed glued to the ground. He never was certain when to answer, but when he heard the tap of the cane he sputtered out, "Folks abandoning them?"

"Oh good. I was beginning to wonder if you produced any mental capability above a small rat. However, back on course, why are these children abandon?" he asked him.

Bobby took a quick glance upwards to see his cold green eyes glaring at him from under his glasses before a friendly smile reappeared. "There parent's weren't smart enough to use protection and the child they produced hindered their life," he answered for him, "Now many non profit organization have spent millions on trying to save these poor orphans by finding some sort of solution. The problem presented quite a riddle for them, but an easily solved one." He pushed down on his cane to stand himself out of the chair. Bobby gulped trying to calm his racing heart as the Riddler slowly limped over to him. "These orphans have little education yet society continues to throw money at these institution that barely keep the children clothed and cleaned. Then once the orphans are old enough to leave they get into a life of crime where they continue to be more of a burden to society, and eventually they too stupidly reproduce continuing the horrible cycle. How do you solve this riddle?" He stood over him giving him an overpowering look, but Bobby expression was clueless. He had spoken the words so fast that he barely caught any of it. Something about orphans and crime and…oh he didn't know.

The Riddler's lips tugged into a frown for a moment before a smug smile crossed his features again. He shuffled Bobby's hair and answered, "Silly boy. You kill them like all things that are insults to intellectual growth. That was why the Democrats legalized abortion after all. It also happens to be the solution to almost anything extremely idiotic dealing with the human race. Now don't get me wrong I don't think idiocy should be a capital offense, but I do think we should take the safety off of everything and the problem would solve itself." The Riddler turned away from him and giggled softly. Was Bobby suppose to laugh too? He didn't see what was funny. His hand reached into his pin stripe coat for the lollipop. "In simple terms for you to understand young man," he said not looking back at him, "If you fail to say exactly what I have told you to because of some _simple human error_ I will kill you." He put the lollipop in his mouth.

Bobby's hand was shaking even more. What had he been told to say? God damn it! He should have written it down.

"Bobbeh, Boss better had a plan foh us to get atta here," Croc mumbled in annoyance judging the weapons.

"I said I would print it!" the man begged again.

Wait…getting out of here…and the print.

"How do you escape something when you're at a disadvantage?" The Riddler had asked him.

Bobby=No Comprehension

The Riddler groaned, "I will make it easier. Jonathan Crane."

Bobby=Still No Comprehension

The Riddler's finger began twitching on his cane while his other hand went to his knee. "Young people fail to keep up with current events. Ridiculous," he muttered and then stated coldly, "Scarecorw."

"Oh…What about him?" he asked and almost got a gun pointed at his head…again.

But it finally clicked to Bobby as he stared at the two guards. He remembered the answer, fear. He remembered what boss wanted him to say.

"There's a bomb," he stuttered out in a hurry remembering the answer.

"What?" the few exclaimed and the woman's weeping got louder. Croc gave him a suspicious look.

"Yeah Boss put a bomb somewhere in this building and it's um…set to explode. The dohicky that stops the bomb is back with us, and if we don't return to the Boss he blows the place. If he doesn't see the crossword in the paper, he blows the place. Um I think that's it. Okay Croc now we can go," he said releasing a deep breath. He hoped that was how the boss meant it…

Croc shrugged and pushed the begging man onto the tile floor. He followed Bobby to the exit.

"Wait you can't go!" one of the guards shouted.

Bobby froze for a moment. His hand was shaking still, but with a deep breath he turned and said, "You don't want this place to blow." He then pushed the doors opened and left with a huge smile. He actually did it right. No one shooting! Croc and him were walking away without a problem! Yes, he was finally figuring it all out.

* * *

He walked into the room his eyes glued to the blond sitting on a white twin size bed. It felt surreal to see him sitting there as if nothing had happened…as if Gotham could still find hope in him. A flash of silver hit his eyes as he watched a coin flipping in the air falling back down into the man's hand. That simple move crutched Batman's surreal state. This man wasn't Harvey Dent…at least not now…

"I was wondering when you would show up," he stated coldly not even looking at him. He flipped the coin up into the air uncaringly.

Batman felt new guilt settled within him. He was an example of someone else he wasn't able to save. The Joker had won the battle over Harvey Dent. "Dent, there is a new villain who has interest in you," he stated hoping the warning wouldn't be ignored.

Dent finally turned to look at him revealing his burn-disfigured part of his face. His other intact face showed apathetic emotions, "Why would you think I care?"

"Gotham can't see you like this. I don't know what the man is planning, but it has something to do with you," he stated coldly. He wished that same set of determination he had seen when he was the DA would light up, but his face was still empty.

"Gotham? Why would I care about that city filled with people who travel blindly through life not realizing how easily everything can unravel? It's all based on luck after all…some are lucky to be ignorant," he said flipping his coin once more and turned to the wall. The coin must have become a habit because it had become much more repetitive then before. He wondered why the staff allowed him to keep it.

"Harvey," he pleaded being reminded of that night that he threatened Gordon's family. Why couldn't he reach him? "People make choices on how to live their lives. Luck doesn't determined a man's own motivation to do something with himself."

"Chance determines whether that man is dealt a horrible hand in the slums or a high class mansion," he stated with another flip.

"Harvey you have to think of yourself. A man might be after you next," he said hoping the desperation wasn't seeping through his throaty voice.

"Why? There is nothing more to life. It all ends the same anyways. Death. Chance just determines whether you die sooner or later. I'll let it decide for me. If my luck is up then it is," he said staring off into the white wall bricks.

"She wouldn't have wanted…"

"Don't you dare talk about her!" he shouted whipping his head to face him. His intact face formed a scowl to match the hatred in his burnt side. The flipping of his coin had increased.

"You need to…" he began, but once again was cut off.

"How bout this Batman? We play the chances. Dark side you leave and don't bother me with your nonsense. Light side you stay and I'll listen to your self righteous speech that has already been mentally prepared," he said as he showed off his large double-headed silver dollar.

Before he could say anything the coin was already spinning in the air. It landed gracefully on the top of his hand. He quickly picked it up and showed the dark visible side. "It was nice seeing you again," he said in a sarcastic tone that didn't go unnoticed.

The man in black slowly turned towards the door. He couldn't help Harvey until he was willing to come to terms about Rachel. His hand touched the doorknob and he stopped. He spoke directly towards the door, "He goes by Riddler. His real name is Edward Nigma. Be careful." With that statement in the air he was gone leaving the somewhat temperamental man alone in his own depression.

* * *

Gordon studied the filled out crossword in the Gotham Times.

What

Lights

Up

World

Like

Explosions

Six

Tonight

Blagojevich

Bridge

Every other word in the crossword was a synonym for riddle. Gordon looked frustrated as he tried to decipher the hidden riddle. There had to be a hidden riddle. After the past two mistakes, he was beginning to understand his method. He studied the clues to the crossword. The clues themselves were rather normal. The only thing he found odd was the numbering of the clues. Normally each clue was set in chronological order, but in this crossword number 8 would be first followed by 1 then randomly followed by 10. It made no sense, but he knew that was where the true riddle laid. He rubbed his hand under his glasses, as the letters seemed to blend together.

"_Commissioner, no explosives were found at Gotham Times, but something was found at the bridge," _the Lieutenant spoke from the radio. Gordon's face turned into a deeper scowl. They closed the bridge off around mid morning once the crossword was figured out. He was hoping it would just be a distraction and not a real threat.

"_All units are to move to the bridge to prevent movement across it. I'm coming down_," he spoke into the radio slipping on his jacket. They had three more hours until six. They would have to neutralize the bomb before then, and if they couldn't at least no one would die. He pocketed the crossword knowing he was missing something, but all he could do now was solve the problem at hand. He headed off to the sight.

* * *

Walter Leam left the hospital precisely at 5:45 like he did everyday from his position at St. Joseph. Gotham General had yet to be rebuilt. Luckily he was quickly added to the surgeon staff. Everything was precisely how it should be for him at the age of 42. He was married to Josephine who raised his two young sons. His first was going off to college this year at Duke. He lived in a beautiful white house out in the suburbs of Gotham. He had never refinanced his house, and therefore stayed away from the crazy housing crash. He ate dinner everyday at home except on Saturdays when he would take Josephine into the city. Overall, his life was perfect. He hadn't been an on call surgeon in years, and it made his life so much happier. There was only one little hiccup in his life.

The other day two police officers came to visit him at work and described the potential danger he could be in. He had been Edward Nigma's surgeon. He remembered the day well because he had a choice. He could either attempt to cut out the small decaying muscle before moving them all out of the hospital or rescheduling it for another time when the threat had been taken care of. He chose the latter. With all of his other surgeries and Nigma's file going missing he wasn't able to perform the surgery on time. Nigma had to lose the bottom half of his leg. The man argued and presented an alternative. He wasn't willing to part with his leg stressing his love for running and how it was the only thing that kept him going these days. He tried to explain again that there was no other way, but once again he felt himself sewn into a corner with words. Nigma bring up malpractice then suggesting a solution to both their problems. He wanted the surgery he was scheduled to get to begin with. Once again Walter explained how the amount of muscle taken out would only cause pain and nothing more. He wouldn't listen. A contract was signed and the surgery was put into place. He explained all of this to the officers. He stressed that Nigma had come to the conclusion himself and had no reason to seek out revenge against him. He had watched the news and understood the Riddler's focus on the unintelligent. He, himself, was far from unintelligent. He had no reason to come after him. The officers still suggested they stay by his side for the time being, but after the threat to the bridge they were forced to leave. Walter didn't mind. He preferred being alone during his drives home.

He shut his door to his silver Subaru and put his briefcase on the passenger seat. He brushed a hand through his graying black hair before finding his key. It was unfortunate about the bridge. He had been taken that bridge home for the past fifteen years. He turned the engine to life causing the car to hum. He thought he noticed something green in his peripherals and quickly turned to the source. He saw his GPS system slowly coming to life. It wasn't green though. It was the normal blue with the Subaru logo. He must have just imagined it. When his wife first suggested getting a GPS in his car, he had thought it ridiculous. He had driven the same route home everyday, but now he was thankful for his wife's kind request. He really did love her. He pressed home button and then detour to get off the main bridge he would normally take.

_Drive 100 feet then turn left_, the voice spoke calmly. He pressed his foot to the gas and began following the voice home.

* * *

"Comish, we disabled five, but there are still ten left," a man in full SWAT uniform spoke to him, "Each one has a different 'what am I?' riddle that will automatically trigger the mechanics if fiddled with and not answered causing this to take longer."

"Ten left," Gordon said looking at his clock. "Get the men away from the bridge," he ordered at another officer. They only had ten minutes. They needed to get the citizens back who had come to watch.

"Sir, my bomb squad is looking over the first disable weapon and they just informed me of something very interesting," he continued not seeming very worried.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The substance within the bomb is something new that we have never seen before. They did quick chemical analysis and while some of the chemicals are active and can ignite one of the chemicals within neutralizes them," he informed.

"You mean…" he paused his mouth dropping. They had been fooled again. The Riddler was after something else.

"The first one was a dud, and I expect all the others to be as well," he filled in Gordon's missing words.

"This man…" Gordon groaned before pointing at the officers, "They are probably duds, but I want everyone away from the bridge just in case."

* * *

Walter nodded his head to the Christmas music. Christmas was still a while off, but Josephine had left the CD in.

_Turn Right in 1 mile._

He followed the directions exactly. His eyes finally took in his surrounding. He was driving in a part town he hadn't seen before. He saw the graffiti and broken windows. He noticed a few peering eyes on the sidewalk. He was in a bad part of town. Probably, the Narrows. This was why he preferred not to use the GPS. He locked the door just incase.

_Turn Left in 50 feet._

He glanced at the turn. It looked more like an alley then a road. Where was the GPS taking him? He quietly switched his blinker on and made a turn into the alley.

_Welcome to Your Destination!_

"What?" he looked at the strange device. He must have typed in the wrong address. No wonder it dragged him down into the Narrows. He went out to touch the GPS to re enter the address, but the screen flashed green revealing a black question mark. His eyes widened in shock as his entire car shut down. "Shit," he mumbled to himself. His hand went back to his key as he tried to restart the engine. The only noise he heard was the car making some dying groan. He frowned. This was the last place he wanted to get stuck. He reached for his phone to call Josephine and then AJAX. A soft tapping noise landed on his window causing his phone to stumble out of his hand. He quickly turned to face it to see a permanent marker drawn question mark. His face went blank as if his mind wasn't able to process the information. He was the man who planned life and was happy with the small things. He was a man who organized and purposely avoided dangerous situation. He was the man…that the Riddler was going after next.

His hand flew to the key again trying to start his car. Another tap was heard on the window, but this time it was softer. He took a quick glance to see the familiar Edward Nigma's face leering over him as his long finger tapped against the glass. "Hello Doctor, you seem to be having car troubles," he said with a caring smile that only reeked of arrogance, "I admit I am not very good with cars, however I do have a talent for computers. Did you know that most new cars these days can easily be controlled by a computer? OnStar has definitely changed things."

Walter's grip had tightened onto the steering wheel. Was he saying…was he saying that he hacked his car? "So I have a riddle for you, and if you can answer it we will skip the rest and I will let you go home to your wife and kid," he said sickenly sweet voice.

He knew it was trap. This man was know for his riddles being confusing with no patterns. Walt glanced up at the man through the window. He was younger then himself, but he was crippled. He could over power him and make a run for it. He would just distract him until then. "What is the riddle?" he asked politely.

The man gave off a smug expression as he spoke, "What is found over your head, but under your hat?"

Walter eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He had assumed the riddles would be difficult because this man was being called the Riddler, but this was child's play. "Your hair," he spoke almost bored.

"Oh so close, but no," he said his smirk getting bigger.

"What?" he asked feeling completely cheated. He was for certain that was the correct answer.

The Riddler slowly lifted up his bowler cap to reveal a shiny key right on top of his orange hair. "It's actually a copy of your car key," he said plucking the key off and placing his hat back on, "I understand though some riddles are very difficult. I mean I haven't personally experience that problem, but I'm sure it's horrendous."

Walter's heartbeat had spiked. When he unlocked the door he would make a run for it. His face stayed cool and collected as the Riddler put the key into the car door. He watched as the door lock quickly snapped back in. The Riddler then reached for the doorknob. Once he heard the door start opening he slammed it right into his gut causing Nigma to let out a groan of pain and fall onto the ground as he bolted the other way. He saw the road. It wouldn't be that far.

But then some over looming large shadow clouded his vision. He stopped looking at the giant man in the white tank.

"Damnit, he made me break a tootsie pop! Croc grab him," he shouted in a less then happy voice from the ground, "Kid, I need a hand."

Before Walter could even protest the large man encompassed his arms into his giant hands. He couldn't even move. His eyes barely noticing the reflective white teeth peeking from his smile. What was this…thing? The giant turned him around to face the Riddler who was getting pulled up by a small boy in a dirty suit. "Here kid, have this. The tootsie pop is unimportant if the riddle is lost," he dropped a broken lollipop into the kids hand. The man in a dark green jacket then limped over to him. Walter found himself glancing at his leg. He was quite surprise that he was able to walk on it like that. He had told him he would be in a wheel chair the rest of his life because the pain would be to excruciating, yet he didn't even wince with each step. His eyes were brought back to his face when a gun was brought to his forehead.

"Doctor, I have a tough choice for you? A puzzle, I guess you could call it. You can either lose your life or lose a limb. It's unfortunate that I couldn't fit you into my timetable to have given you a third option of life. But things come up," he said some of the words sounding very familiar to his ears.

"Edward, I told you I could not control the Joker's action. I had did the surgery as soon as I could," he defended himself.

A girlish giggle left his mouth before he smirked, "Doctor, I'm not the Scarecrow or the Joker. There is no reason to be frightened of me. I don't actually plan on killing you." He titled the barrel of the gun away from his forehead.

Walter felt a smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't. Oh thank the lord. "I only want to give a riddle," he stated then swung the back of gun into his head knocking him out cold.

* * *

Gordon watched his watch as the seconds ticked down. Slowly the minute hand moved to 12 while the hour went to 6. He braced himself for loud explosions, screams, and a creaking bridge. Instead the noise was more of two sudden and sharp pound of sound.

DUN. DUN.

A light streaked across the sky up into the night until a loud pop and caracking sounded, and the sky went green.

* * *

a/n: this will be Ivy's only cameo in the story. However if you want a detailed vision of her in my head, she wears green and pink hemp sweatshirt without a bra that is rather low cut. Her pants are tight brown cotton sweats. Her physical form is rather hidden except for the cleavage. She is an environmentalist and works as a researcher specializing in poisons. She also is a boarders as a nudist. She is not yet a criminal in this story even if she has the beginning of temper problems. In my nolanverse fics she will never be half plant person. She also will never be able to control plants. anyways i hope it was good! :)


	8. Chapter 8

a/n: once again sorry for the delay. i was traveling and had mid term...mixing the two meant very little free time. This chapter took some time because of all the riddles I had to make. Gezz I don't know how the riddler does it! It's exhausting! I also want to thank my few reviewers! You make me feel like I'm not completely wasting my time ^^ Oh and btw can you believe the Riddler is not going to be in the Dark Knight Rises! -.- blah. anyways enjoy!

* * *

A giant green question mark sparkled in the night sky of Gotham. Everyone looked up with a mixture of curiosity and surprise from the firework that lingered there for a few seconds longer before eventually fizzling out.

Including Batman who was hidden in the shadows of a roof. He had been expecting the worst…not a fireworks show. Another one went off, but this time letting lose three more question marks into the sky. Batman's jaw tightened. He couldn't determine the Riddler's plan. Seeing Harvey Dent earlier that day had shook him up and made him lose focus. The Riddler had been right about Harvey Dent being a crack in his mask. He personally felt responsible, and seeing the man in such despair…

He pushed the emotion to the side and focused back on the crossword he had worked on for the rest of the day. The clues for the crossword had been the real riddle. He knew that. He thought he had figured it out. The number next to the clue was the number of letters you were supposed to count into it.

8. A dim wit**t**ed man wouldn't be able to solve this.

If you took the letter appropriate with the number for each sentence it formed another riddle. The letter taken from that clue would be T. After finding each correspondent letter it spelled:

The first thing done in golf mallet wear

The first part of the sentence made complete sense, but the last two words didn't. It made him question whether he had found the real hidden riddle. Therefore, for the rest of the day he stared at the crossword in search of another. He didn't find any. He was missing something, but he just couldn't figure out what.

The fireworks continued for a few more minutes showing question mark after question mark. Finally it stopped. Everyone's eyes still glued to where the light show had just occurred waiting for something. When the night sky stayed blank for a few minutes people started to talk. Batman blocked out the chattering from below and still focused on the sky. There would be another clue. He wouldn't put on a show like that for no reason at all. Batman still didn't quite understand why, but the Riddler wanted him to find him.

Just as expected another loud thundering sounded across the lake. The firework went up into the sky except this time it was yellow and formed a giant bat. Batman hand tightened into an irritated fist. He was being taunted. His eyes followed across the river to where the fireworks had come from. The Riddler was challenging him, and Bruce was not going to back down. Not now, not ever.

* * *

Walter felt cold and wet. His head felt like someone had slammed a rock into it. He let out a groan as his body shifted in the grime filth floor. Grime filth floor? His body tensed when he realized he wasn't in his bed. "Oh shit," he mumbled. He rarely curse finding it inappropriate, but those were the only words he could string together to describe his feelings at the moment. He took a calming breath. He was kidnap by the Riddler, but his wife would call the police as soon as he didn't come home on time and then someone would find him. He didn't need to worry.

"Doctor, I'm glad you're awake. I hope you don't mind that I left your wife a note in accordance to you."

Walter's face snapped up to the voice seeing a dumpy television set. "Don't hurt my wife, Edward!" he shouted for the first time in years.

The man had something in his mouth as he leaned closer to the screen. His lips still in a smug smirk, "I told you I only left a note. No need to worry. All it said was, 'What is your relationship status?'"

A scowl formed on Walter's face. "What is that suppose to mean?" he snapped pushing himself off the ground.

"Many things, but enough about Josephine," hearing his wife's name on his lips made him involuntarily flinch as he continued, "You have a riddle to solve before time runs out."

"Edward! Stop this childish behavior," he said throwing his hands in the air like he was talking to his two sons when they were ten, "You are a grown adult you should be acting like one."

The smug look fell from his face as the lollipop kind of dangled there for a moment. His green eyes narrowed. He caught his long finger tapping the top of his cane in annoyance. "Now Walter, I take myself as a very forgiving man. While I could have beaten you in the alley like the idiotic dog you are," he smiled as he said the words, "I am giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Riddle me this, what happens to the person who spits at the hand that feeding?"

"This is ridiculous Edward! Redeem myself? I did nothing! Nothing!" he shouted loudly hearing his voice against the dark brick walls.

"That's the point," he said lowly. Walter heard a crack and realized the man had bit into his lollipop. "Doing nothing," he said in a more controlled sweet voice, "is still an action that can negatively affect others. While the ignorant believe that they have the right to waste away their time, they don't realize by doing that they are hindering the economy from growth and effecting every single being from getting out of a recession. Every man who sits on the street begging instead of creating a small business with intellectual creativity hurts the economy. By doing nothing they hurt us…they hurt me. So dear Doctor Walter Leam, nothing is just as much of an action as an action itself is."

"I did do the surgery though!" he said his frustration increasing.

"You did nothing for two days," he stated then his smile got larger, "But that is the past. Edward Nigma is dead, and therefore we should focus on the future…like this riddle."

* * *

ED WEEPIER OGLE PHOTO

Batman eyes read and reread the giant flyer hanging from the fireworks machine. Ed weepier ogle photo. The words made no coherent sense, but he knew they had to. Everything the Riddler did had a point. Ed Weepier could be a name of a person who is involved with pornographic photography. He inwardly groaned. He snapped a quick picture of it before going back to the shadows. The police would be here soon, and they couldn't distract him.

Ed weepier ogle photo. It's not a riddle because it doesn't pose a question, but it has to be a riddle.

…It's an anagram. He pressed on the button near his temple. "Alfred," he muttered into the speaker.

"Yes sir?" his voice echoed in his ear.

"I need you to determine all the anagrams in Ed Weepier Ogle Photo," he spoke then transferred the photo to the computer in the cave. Hopefully this was would give him a clue.

* * *

"What year did Bob Woodward and Carl Berstein's careers take a drastic turn into changing the outcome of the United State's government?" the Riddler asked him from the protection of the television screen.

Walter glared at the man sucking on a lollipop. "What type of riddle is that?" he said frustrated.

The man's hand pulled his black cane onto his lap as he leaned farther back into the chair. "A history one of course. I would answer quickly if you want to find the keys to get out of that basement before it completely filled with toxic air," he answered.

Walter's eyes widened with newfound fear. His eyes finally left the television to study his surroundings. It was dark…very dark, but he could still make out tile walls. They seemed strangely familiar even with the dirt and grim that layered them. There were holes in the wall though. They didn't look natural, but dug out with some broken type of shovel. His eyes flew pass the holes to some type of escape. Then he saw the stairs leading up to a door. He ran fast to the stairwell taking each stair by two as his legs stretched the distance. When he reached the door he slammed his side into it as his hand turned the doorknob.

It didn't budge. He tried again even though his haggard breathing was slowing him down. The door still didn't move.

"I am hoping that your hearing has been impaired by your older age because I will be seriously disappointed if you are too incompetent to understand that you need to find the keys to successfully complete this riddle," the voice scolded.

The good old doctor looked down at the back of the television. This was ridiculous. He would just wait for someone to come and get him, but then he heard it, a sizzling sound coming from above. His eyes jumped to the vent on the ceiling. A thick cloud of something was pushing out into the small room. His face turned into a scowl. He couldn't rely on the ill efficient police department to save him…at least not in the amount of time he would have. Maybe that Bat thing…no, he was a criminal. He wouldn't save him. Walter stood a bit straighter and brushed off his jacket. He was quite knowledgeable in history. He could get the key. He even knew the answer to that question. Woodward and Berstein were writers for the Washington Post. They were the main cause for the Watergate Scandal being brought to light to the public, and in some ways the reason for Nixon's resignation. Their first article on the scandal was in "1972," he said aloud to the boss as he walked down the stairs to face Edward.

"How unexpected…you are actually correct." Walter had expected the words to sound irritated or sad, but instead they were still laced with arrogance. He walked over to the television and saw the man playing and staring at his lollipop in his hand.

"Where's the key?" he asked feeling his skin prickle with anger.

He noticed his eyebrow rise underneath his bowler cap, but his eyes still stared at the candy, "Hmm…oh yes. The key is beyond the answer."

It was such a cryptic response, and Walter just shook his head with frustration. "This is utter crap Edward! I answered your riddle so give me the key," he shouted at the TV, very tempted to kick it in.

"I'm sorry did you say something?" he asked looking back up at him.

Walter hands flew to his hair as he let out growl and whirled his body around in annoyance. His eyes once again looked at the holes clustered all over the walls. He saw something else though…numbers. There were numbers scratched above each hole. They weren't in any particular order. The key is beyond the answer…bastard gave him a riddle right there. Walter took note to his increase in curse words, but at this point didn't give a damn. He scanned the walls in search for 1972 trying to ignore the cloud of fog that now layered the top of the ceiling. He finally found 1972 written above a hole in the corner. He stared at for a moment not believing he was actually seeing it before squatting his form on the ground. With a deep breath he pushed his hand inside the darkness of the hole.

* * *

Where people go to die.

The anagram spelled out that disturbed riddle. His first thoughts had been a cemetery so his cloak form stood outside the gothic gates to the dead. He hadn't stepped in yet. Something about it felt wrong. He wasn't ready to go in destroying the area of resting on a possible hunch. It was disrespectful. He found himself pulling out the crossword again. He searched for anything that would point him in a different direction then the place for the dead.

Mallet Wear.

He thought of the other anagram…could it be? His mind started running through all the possible words that those two could form, but he couldn't find something that could work with the riddle.

What if it's not a word…but a name. Batman pressed his speaker again then spoke quietly, "Can you compare the letters in Mallet Wear with all the names in effect with Edward Nigma's surgery?"

"Of course, sir," Alfred spoke into his ear. He heard typing in the background then a pause of movement. "Walter Leam was Mr. Nigma main surgeon," he spoke.

The first thing done in golf, Walter Leam?

The drive was the first step in golf…drive. He must have picked Walter Leam up in his car. The victim and the way of kidnapping all right there in front of him, but he had missed it. Batman growled as he jumped into the tumbler. He needed to find the car, and maybe, hopefully, the Riddler hadn't gotten to him yet.

* * *

Walter felt something in the back of the hole. It was small and had a choppy edge. He smiled as he grabbed and pulled the key out. This was turning out easier then he thought (even with the Riddler's obnoxious toddler actions). He stood back up and brushed himself off again. He then walked over to the television. "It was nice seeing you again Edward, but I will be on my way," he said then took a step towards the stairs.

A childish giggle stopped his movement, and he glanced back at the man who was now rocking back and forth in his chair with laughter. "Counting not your strength, Doctor? Because if I remember correctly there are three locks," he said with a smirk.

Walter form went stiff as his hand fell to his side. He gave a tired look at Edward, "What's the next riddle?"

"It's simple," he said with a smile, his orange hair falling slightly in one of his eyes, "A woman realized she could never make this pie because it would take eternity. What is the pie?"

Walter looked at all the marking above the holes. There were only numbers no words, so obviously this pie had to be the mathematical term of pi. He knew the first few numbers of pi. 3.141

He quickly left the television and started scanning the walls again. The smoke was getting lower and starting to block out some of the holes. He needed to hurry. He wasn't sure how much he could breath of that and still live. He finally came upon a 3.141893 scratched into the wall. Yes, he found it. He smirked to himself as he reached his right hand up to the hole. Just as his fingers were about to enter his eyes caught sight of another number.

3.141593

He paused. He gulped in a breath as he stood himself back up. The numbers were so similar. He then caught sight of another one.

3.141592

He slid his fingers through his aging hair as he chewed over the options. He did once over of the room again attempting to see if there was another one coming to the conclusion that these three numbers were the closets to pi. Now, he just had determined which one was pi. "What happens if I pick the wrong answer?" he asked back to the television.

"You won't die, but mistake are punished," the voice was uncaring. It almost felt like the man wasn't even watching. Why did he go through all this trouble not to care about the end results?

Walter sighed debating the numbers.

3.141893

3.141593

3.141592

He honestly didn't remember the number after one, but he didn't go to med school for six years not to have good deductive reasoning skills. It wasn't the first one because five appeared in the other numbers more instead of the single eight…using that logic it also couldn't be the last one because three appeared more then two.

3.141**8**93

3.141593

3.14159**2**

He moved over to the second one. It made sense if someone was attempting to trick another person they would only change one number from the sequence and not all. He hoped he was right. The smoke was about a foot away from his head, so he didn't have much more time to debate. He reached his arm into the hole.

* * *

Batman stared at the car he had traced into the alley in the Narrows. He hadn't gotten him in time. He bent over the foot prints and judge each one. There were two pair of average sizes, one gigantic size, and another smaller one. It looked like the large one had overpowered Walter. The Riddler was working with someone, but he had assumed that after coming across the P on the weapon device. He stood back up trying to determine their location. They had left nothing to point him in a direction…no tire tracks…no witnesses.

Where people go to die…played in his head again.

The cemetery didn't fit that. Edward's focus so far had been on things that had affected him in his life. His background check hadn't mentioned anything of a lost love one. Its main focus was on the hospital.

Hospital.

Batman whipped his cape around as he jumped back into the tumbler. He was at Gotham General's old ruined sight. He had to be. Sick people constantly came to the hospital to get better, but some died…and in Edward's mind they all eventually died there. It all made sense. He probably brought Walter to somewhere in the wreckage. Batman pressed the wheel forward speeding the machine forward.

* * *

Walter grabbed another key out of the hole. He couldn't help the confident smirk spreading across his face. Josephine would be so proud of him right now. "Next riddle, Riddler?" he said as he turned with the next key.

Again he was surprised to see that the Riddler seemed unaffected by his success at his little game. He actually smirked himself, "Very impressive Doctor. I knew I would enjoy you for a challenge. The next riddle I hope you will find even more difficult," he rolled the lollipop between his fingers, "How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of tootsie pop?" he asked with a longer stretched smile.

Walter gave the man with the green jacket a blank confused stare. "This is the next riddle?" he asked uncertain.

"Yes, one of my favorites as well," he said putting the lollipop back into his mouth.

"I can't answer that. I have never eaten that disgusting candy," he barked taking a cautious eye to the fog of gas getting closer.

Anger appeared on the Riddler's face for a moment as his dark green eyes narrowed, but just as quick as it appeared it was replaced with a smile. "That is unfortunate. You missed out quite a mystery of life," he answered, "But the riddle does not change."

Walter glared at the ridiculous man. He would just have to think through it logically like he did pi. It obviously wasn't a low number because even with sucking lollipop took a while to dissolve. It would have to be very high then…probably more even more then five hundred. He looked around the room searching through the numbers once again. He automatically deleted half of them by taking out anything below 100. He deleted ten more that were under 500. He also knew it couldn't be an extremely large number that knocked out another quarter of the numbers. He was left with nine options. The fog was getting larger, and he was having to duck his head to avoid it. He hoped the key wasn't in a higher hole, but he didn't have time to think about that. He would take a chance. He would go for the number in the middle, which was 1240. He frowned as he walked towards it. He bet the bastard had actually counted every 1240 licks that it took to get to the center. Without even thinking he pushed his arm into the hole and touched that back to feel…

Nothing.

Walter eyes widened in surprise. He had gotten so confident that he didn't really consider it not being the right one. His breath caught in his throat as he waited for something horrible happen…but it never did. After a few moments of him standing there in panic and the fog getting closer, he finally calmed himself. It was all just a threat to scare him. He pulled his arm back.

A piercing scream filled the room, and he realized it had escaped his own lips as sharp objects dug into his skin. He quickly pushed his arm back to where it was releasing the sharp object, but not depleting the pain.

"Interesting contraption isn't it? I was quite impressed when I was introduced to it. It allows for ones hand to go in, but the knives positioning towards the arm prevents it from coming back out," he paused for a moment putting a finger to his lip, "Well that's not exactly true. The arm could still come out…just with less flesh. It's very unfortunate that you supplied the wrong answers."

Walter felt his eyes tearing up. His face formed a disgusted scowl as he tried to move his arm again. He pulled it back only to be filled with that same intense pain. He stopped and whimpered. Gah! Why? Why couldn't he have just made it home like always? He hadn't done anything to deserve this!

Something was clouding his vision and he realized it was the poisonous gas. He lowered his head evading the outcome for a few more moments.

"You still have another arm, Doctor. Therefore, you still have another chance. Or did you except your death?" he heard the Riddler's voice somewhere behind him. He didn't want to die. He wanted to see his son's graduate college and eventually their wives and children. He wanted to have a family barbeque with his farther and mother. The grandchildren would play with one another while he caught up on his sons' lives. He didn't want to die in an old rotting basement. He wanted to die in bed with his arm around Josephine. With a deep breath and a new goal, he yanked his arm out of the hole, but the knives just settled deeper into his skin. He screamed an agonizing scream as his muscle felt ripped from his bone. His vision was starting to blank while tears dripped down his face. He couldn't bear the pain. He had to stop. He was stuck their about to face his death. The smoke was getting closer, and even though he came close to sitting on the ground (as much as his arm could allow) it was still only inches away.

"It looks like you lose," the Riddler spoke in a deadly serious voice.

A loud banging noise was sounding from somewhere. Walter tried to latch onto it, but it was coming from above the smoke.

BOM BOM BOM

It sounded like a figure hitting against wood. A door. Walter's head felt loopy as he leaned against the tile. His eyes stared at the blue and white. He knew this tile. It was in the basement where they used to keep the recently passed patients' bodies at Gotham General. _I'm dying in the crypt_. The new knowledge only made him feel sicker. So when the door busted opened and the smoke lifted from the room Walter had passed out.

Batman was flooded with a strange color smoke and he quickly brought his cloak up to his face to protect himself from it. He then hurried down the stairs to see an older man passed out on the side with his arm stuck in the wall. The blood dripping down his arm didn't go unnoticed, and Batman hurried to his side. He dropped his cloak when the smoke appeared to be moving upwards, and then checked the man's vital. He still had a heartbeat, and Batman found himself letting out a breath of relief.

"Batman again! Did you like my invitation? I don't usually like fireworks, but since the bat signal was destroyed I had no other way," the Riddler spoke in a carefree tone.

Batman turned and faced the screen. "Riddler, you have to stop this. This man almost died," he spoke in a gruff voice once again trying to find reason.

"If he died it would not have been my fault. I did give you and the GCP all the clues to stopping my kidnap attempt and where to find him if I did happen to kidnap him. I do have to say that I am not even to blame for the man's beat up shape," he spoke using his lollipop to point at the man.

"Riddler, you cannot delete your responsibility by pushing it on others," he spoke coldly wanting to jump through the screen.

"Oh I agree. So isn't it the police responsibility to stop me?" he said with a smug smirk, "Batman I am quite impressed with you though. You purposely take on responsibility that isn't yours, yet for some reason you believe it is. You believe you have to save Gotham…did you fail to save it a day before you became Batman? Interesting riddle," he mumbled to himself as he chewed his bottom lip.

Batman kept his cold expression trying not to let the words affect him. "I will find you," he stated with his throaty voice, "I will stop you."

"Batman, I want you to find me. It wouldn't be worth giving a riddle if there wasn't a worthy opponent. Good day!" he waved and then the television showed a green question mark before going blank.

Batman moved from the screen back to man. He needed medical help immediately. He studied his arm that was stuck into the wall. Something sharp was holding it, and he had little faith he could pull it out without doing damage. The wall would have to be cut then removed. He could get it started, but Gordon would have to bring real tools. He opened the flap on his wrist that revealed a small computer. He quickly typed a location and sent it to Gordon's phone. He would have about ten minutes before he would be forced to leave. He reached into his belt pockets. Time to get started. As Batman reached his carving device to the metal he heard the man let out a groan. He turned off the machine for a moment to check. He lowered his from.

The older man's lips were moving and through a crack whisper he said, "Thank…you."

Bruce nodded, even though the man couldn't see it. He turned back to his task feeling like a little tiny amount of weight had left his shoulders.

* * *

The Riddler sat across from the kid at the fold out table they had set up in one of the back rooms of the warehouse. It had been two days since his last riddle, and he was preparing for the next. It would take a lot more planning because it involved two people and Gotham. He also had to make the riddle even harder since the Dark Knight seemed to be smarter then he first suspected. He tapped his wrap tootsie pop on the counter, and noticed the kid twitch. He turned his glasses towards the boy. He was shaking with a bowl of cereal in front of him. He frowned and spoke carefully, "A mouse frightened away the lion."

His words caused the boy to shake more. "I'm s-sorry," he muttered out.

A sharp pain went through his leg causing the Riddler to wince. How difficult was it to avoid stupidity? I'm sorry was no response to that statement! Just as the Riddler was going to present the boy a choice Croc walked in.

"Did you deliver the penguin antique's from the Leam's house to Penguin?" he asked hoping his big clumsy hands didn't break any. During his riddle with Dr. Leam, he had sent Croc and the kid to collect some things from Josephine Leam. Croc had managed to break two of the priceless statues on the drive back…at least they still had six more.

"Ya Boss. Gotta all em in the Birdies hands. He was happier then a fly on a cow pie," he said tiredly as he walked over to the fridge.

"So the dead men are forgotten about?" he made sure ignoring Croc's butchering of the English language.

"Ya," he spoke as he pulled out a raw piece of meat before turning around to the table, "Paper Boss?" He then tossed the paper onto the table as the large black man took a seat in the flimsy chair that threatened to break.

The Riddler let out a slightly annoyed sigh. He didn't want to see Croc eat. He put weight on his cane as he grabbed the paper. He then limped over to his room in the back heading straight to his desk. He comfortably sat into the leather chair. He put the paper on top of his desk as he unwrapped his tootsie pop. He paused his action when the headline came into view.

JOKER AND SCARECROW ESCAPE was written across the top of the newspaper in big bold letters. The Riddler's dark eyes took in the information as his lips formed a devious smirk. "Right on time," he said knowingly before he tossed his tootsie pop wrapper in the trash.


	9. Chapter 9

a/n: I'm having difficulties figuring out the next riddle. It's hard to make a riddle even more difficult then the one before, and have it make sense. Mentally exhausting. I don't know how Riddles does it. Anyways I wrote this small piece to show sort of what the Joker is up to. Enjoy! And thank you Phantom Puppeteer! You're the only one still reviewing lol.

* * *

"I'm not doing this."

"You have too Johnny boy. I got you out didn't I?"

"I said I would make your ridiculous laughing gas I never agreed to this."

"But you'd be helpin' out a friend, Johnny."

"You're not my friend."

"Are you scared, is that it? Poor little scaredy cat afraid of the little mouse."

"I'm not scared! I'm leaving. You got what you needed so don't bother me again."

"I don't think we ah- understand each other, Johnny."

…

"I wasn't _asking_ you to help."

* * *

A commercial on tampons played across the screen. The young girl was participating in sports then jumping on a trampoline and finally laughing with friends. After seeing a high number of this ad, the Riddler had learned to block out the images focusing on his next riddle as he waited for the GCN news to come back. His notebook was flipped opened on his knee and had hundreds of scribbles, doodles, and numbers that only he could understand. He had everything set up for his new contestant, but he was lacking the riddle to give to the police. He had to act soon though with the Joker's escape. He wanted the Joker to escape, but his unpredictability could easily skew his wanted results. The Joker had blown up some random factory for no apparent reason. If he wanted to prevent his plan from being ruined his riddle would have to be turned in tomorrow at the latest.

A loud piercing laugh sounded around him, and the Riddler glanced up from his black frames. Croc's body had stiffened in his standing position while Bobby seemed to push farther into the couch. The Riddler soon found the source of the noise to be coming from the television.

On the screen a man in a purple suit had his back to the camera. He was dancing around a small room colored with bright blue wallpaper. Toys cluttered the room as with a bed and dresser. It looked like an average children's room. A small child was singing twinkle twinkle little star in the background. The man, who he already knew was the Joker, continued to dance around with his back towards the camera. He finally turned to the side revealing part of his painted face, and a woman he was dragging limply around. When he saw the camera, the Joker acted like he had just seen it. He shifted the woman in his arms causing her head to fall back and reveal her open dead eyes and the Cheshire grin cut into her lips. Blood was everywhere. The Joker let go of her, and her dead weight fell quickly to the ground. The child's singing stopped and turned to whimpers.

"Hello Gotham," he said with a wide stretched red grin.

"Look at your friend," he stated as he pointed at the camera.

"Now back to me," he pointed back to himself.

"Now back to your friend," he pointed the purple glove once more at them.

"Now. Back. To. Me," his smile got larger and he started laughing to himself as he pushed back some of the greasy green locks from his forehead.

"Sadly, they are ah- Not me," he stated as he popped his lips together.

"But," he stressed the word, "If they stopped focusing on silly rid-de-dles and picked up Giggle Can," his other hand pulled out a small can from his purple suit jacket. He held it up on his palm next to his face, "They could laugh like me."

"Look down," he said glancing to the ground, "Now Back up."

As he said the words the child's room behind him floated upwards like it was a set, and the Joker now stood in a black brick room with a man tied struggling in a chair. He still held the can out in his palm and faced the camera as he walked back towards the tied up person. "Where are you?" he asked with a grin as he pulled out his gun with his free hand. The man in the chair started struggling and screaming behind his duct tape mouth. He shot the gun then put his foot onto the now dead man's lap. "You're on a dead cop with the man your friend could ah- laugh like," he stated his scar stretching further as he let out a laugh. The camera started zooming in on the Joker's face showing each and every wrinkle within the make up. The Riddler found his focus going to the Joker's disgusting habit of running his tongue on his lips.

"What's...in your hand?" he asked nodding towards the camera.

"Back at me. I have it." the metal can had changed into a colorful purple box with a handle sticking out. He started turning the handle that played an unnoticed tune. "It's a Jack in the box with," a giant clown head popped out of the box holding tickets in his grinning mouth, "Two tickets to that ah- thing you hate."

"Look again!" he shouted the Jack in the box had changed into cards, hundreds of joker cards that seemed to be coming out of his sleeve, "The tickets are now explosive cards!"

"Anything is pos-si-ble when you're um friends laugh with Giggle Can and not silly riddles," he stated the camera started zooming away showing a night sky and the Joker sitting causally on top of a man in a suit. "I'm on a scarecrow!" he then started laughing hysterically holding his hand over his chest. He fell over the exact moment something far in the distance exploded causing the laughter to worsen. The man who he had been sitting on quickly stood up and brushed himself off. He looked extremely angry as he adjusted his glasses. "Degrading," he mumbled as he walked towards the camera. The Joker's laughter was still cascading through as the man's hand went up to the camera and turned it off. The screen went black except for a script handwriting that wrote, Laugh Like a Joker –Joker.

The next commercial followed like the previous one never happened. The Riddler just found himself staring blankly at the screen. The Joker was calling him out by using an Old Spice commercial. The man made no sense except for his need of attention.

"Boss," the boy stated bringing him out of his daze.

He lifted an eyebrow uncaringly as he glanced over at the small kid. "Yes," he asked.

"Are-are we takin' care of him?" the kid asked.

It was a stupid question, but the Riddler found himself to distracted by the Joker's move to be bothered by it. He pulled out his lollipop from his pocket and slowly unwrapped it. He needed to finish the riddle within the next hour so their plan could get going immediately. "Not yet," he stated then muted the television.

Riddles are better then jokes.


End file.
